Ain't No Cure For The Cervitaur Blues
by Krista Perry
Summary: Wendy stared, feeling blood drain from her face as she looked at her friend-turned-fawn, the tiny, unmoving form tangled in the torn red shirt that had collapsed around him. It had happened so fast, but in the ensuing silence, Dipper's strangled screams still echoed in her head. (Inspired by Monster Falls AU.)
1. Chapter 1

Ain't No Cure for the Cervitaur Blues  
A Gravity Falls Fanfic  
by Krista Perry  
I own nothing.

* * *

Summary:

 _Languishing in prison after being thwarted in the Gravity Falls Mayoral Election, Gideon is angry and desperate. He wants power, he wants Mabel, and he'll make a deal with Bill to get both. But when Dipper ruins both Gideon's and Bill's long-term plans, they make another deal together. Bill wants his Weirdmageddon. Gideon just wants Dipper to suffer. Inspired by Monster Falls AU._

* * *

Chapter One:  
 _In Which Gideon Decides to Join the Ranks of the Undead, and Fate Has an Unexpected Hiccup_

* * *

She was old. Older than any other tree as far as she could feel, and her roots ran deep and long. She was older than any tree in her forest, older than the giant redwoods and great sequoias; older than the twisted bristlecone pines far to the south. Those living in her forest called her Mother. Her place was on the bleeding, rippling edge of the veil between the human world and another, and she guarded it well.

She kept watch, for she knew the twisting strands of destiny. She knew that a war was approaching, too close to her home for comfort. A war between a one-eyed demon from a warped realm of madness, and the humans. She knew that a select few of these humans would defy and thwart the demon in his plans, that the threat of eternal nightmares would be stayed and balance would be restored. So she warned her daughters: the day of the war was almost upon them. Stay away, she said, and do not fear, for this war will pass and not harm you. We are beyond its borders.

But then, to her surprise – and it had been such a _long_ time since she had been surprised – something… shifted. A choice was made that was not foreseen. One small, simple choice, and the repercussions rippled wildly through the world, and suddenly the future was not the one she had been expecting for millennia.

* * *

Deep in the brightly-lit bowels of the Gravity Falls Maximum Security Prison, Ghost Eyes looked up from braiding his friendship bracelet as Lil Gideon entered the room, scowling dark as a thundercloud. He knew something had to be really wrong for the kid to seek out his company instead of going to the finger painting class he'd wanted to attend.

Gideon sat down next to him, glaring silently at the table before reaching out and grabbing one of the friendship bracelet starter kits. Ghost Eyes watched Gideon carefully as the kid began to braid, before clearing his throat.

Gideon didn't look at him, still braiding, his brow wrinkled in agitation.

Ghost Eyes tried again. "I'm sorry the election thing didn't work out for you, bro. But if it makes you feel any better, we're gonna throw a riot tonight." He paused, grinning. "Does someone wanna throw a riot?" Gideon always loved the riots. Sometimes he would sit on Ghost Eye's shoulder and shout directions on who he should attack next, and just how to inflict violence. Good times.

Gideon sighed. "Thanks, Ghost Eyes, I'm just not in the mood."

 _Wow_ , Ghost Eyes thought. Gideon, passing up on a riot? He was _really_ upset about that election.

He wished he knew how to help the little guy. After being chosen to be his best prison buddy – a tremendous honor, and everyone knew it – Ghost Eyes knew it was his obligation, his very _duty_ , to make sure Gideon was as happy as possible in this dreadful hell hole of a prison.

Later that evening, after the riot had been neatly wrapped up before lights-out as usual, Ghost Eyes was taking a short cut to his cell through the library, when a book caught his eye. On the cover, two hands holding out a perfect, ripe orange. He liked oranges. After staring at it for a moment… he made a choice.

He picked it up, and headed back to the cell he shared with Lil Gideon.

"Hey, Gideon."

Gideon suppressed a sigh as Ghost Eyes spoke from his bed on the other side of the room. He was not in the mood to talk. He had been hoping that when the freaky glowy-eyed man returned from the riot, he would just snuggle up to his pillow-wife and fall asleep. Alas, it was apparently not to be. "What is it, Ghost Eyes?"

The man held up, of all things, a book. "Want me to read you a bedtime story?"

Gideon blinked. Well, _that_ was new. Against his better judgement, his curiosity got the best of him. "You want to read to me?"

"Sure," Ghost Eyes said. "Take your mind off things for a while."

Gideon glanced over at the cat poster that hung on the wall near his bed. _Hold On To That Branch Or Die, Cat!_ He frowned in contemplation as he thought about the near-complete summoning circle hiding behind it. "I don't know," he said slowly. "What's it about?"

There was sudden enthusiasm in Ghost Eye's voice. "It's called, _The Light From the Sky Between Sunset and Full Night_ ," he said. "It's about this girl named Belle who moves to a new town in the Pacific Northwest, and she meets this guy, Edwin. At first, she can't stand to be near him, but then she finds out that he's actually a vampire, and she falls in love with him."

Gideon pushed himself up on his elbows. "What?" he said. "That doesn't make any sense! Why would she fall in love with him if he's a vampire?"

Ghost Eyes shrugged a little. "I heard that girls find vampires sexy these days. This book seems to back that up."

Gideon blinked, his scowl smoothing, a strange light sparking in his eyes. A girl, new in a Pacific Northwest town, hating a guy before…

"You don't say," he said, and he sank back down onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, his hands folded behind his head. He looked over at the cat poster again and smiled. "By all means, Ghost Eyes. Read me a story."

* * *

Mother pondered, and watched for a while as the new threads of destiny settled in to place. She found herself surprised again as she saw her place within it. Not a silent observer, but an active participant. How strange.

And no time to waste. Quickly, she sent out a silent summons to her daughters. Soon, the whispering footfalls of wood nymphs and sprites filled her glade. When her daughters were all accounted for, she stepped from the living embrace of her tree body and stood before them. They gazed at her expectantly.

"I have summoned you today to inform you that the war between demons and humans, which we have been expecting for a long while, will not be happening. The threads of destiny have been changed."

Somewhere near the back of the group before her, a fist raised and a rowdy voice called out, "Today, we are _cancelling_ the apocalypse!"

It was Alejandra, of course. Mother tried not to smile as the youngling's grove sister punched her in the shoulder, hissing at her to be quiet.

"Indeed," she said, not quite succeeding at complete stoicism. "So worry not, daughters. The feared upsetting of the balance will not come to pass." She tipped her head. "That is all, my dears. You may go about your business." As the assemblage began to disperse, she added, "Except for you, Alejandra."

The young dryad froze in her tracks, turning slowly to face Mother as her sisters quickly vanished into the surrounding forest. The grove sister who had punched her shoulder, Dysis, muttered, "Busted," and looked to be about to sprint off, when Alejandra grabbed her arm and dragged her forward with her as she approached. Her grip was strong, and though Dysis struggled, she couldn't escape before they were both standing before Mother. Quickly trying to recover some decorum, Dysis stilled before bowing. With a smirk, Alejandra released her arm before bowing as well.

"Alejandra," Mother said. "Dysis. Thank you for staying."

The girls raised their heads. Alejandra was smiling sheepishly.

"I asked you to stay," she said, looking at Alejandra," because I need you for an errand to a human abode."

The girl straightened abruptly, her sheepish smile turning into a full-blown grin. Out of all her daughters, no one knew humans, or could seamlessly blend in with them, like Alejandra.

"Sure thing," she said. "Where am I going, and what do I need to do?"

"You will go to Gravity Falls—"

"Gravity Falls?" Dysis interrupted in surprise. Apparently so relieved that they weren't in trouble, she forgot herself. "Isn't that place infested with gnomes? And… _unicorns_?"

Alejandra grimaced. "On second thought, let's not go to Gravity Falls. 'Tis a silly place."

Dysis groaned and turned on her grove sister. "I swear on all that is green and growing, if you start speaking in movie quotes again, I will have the earth swallow up your entire DVD collection."

Alejandra shrugged. "Eh, was planning on going Blu-Ray anyway."

Mother cleared her throat gently, and the violence sparking in Dysis' eyes vanished as the girls straightened to face her again.

"As I was saying," she continued, smiling in amusement, "Alejandra, you will go to Gravity Falls. There is a boy there, and shortly he will be in dire need of our aid. I want you to find him and bring him to me."

"A boy?" Alejandra said, perking up. "Is he cute?"

"He's twelve," Mother answered, and Alejandra's face fell.

"Okay," she said, sighing. "So, just a kid then. How will I find him?"

"You will know him by his human spirit."

Alejandra scowled. "Which will set him apart from all the _other_ humans with human spirits, _how_ exactly?"

Mother laughed a little. "You will know him when you find him."

"And that's not at _all_ cryptic and mysterious," Alejandra said, rolling her eyes.

Oh yes, she would blend right in when she got to Gravity Falls, Mother thought with satisfaction. So far, so good.

"Go," she said. "Time is short."

"Of _course_ it is," Alejandra muttered, before turning and running off in the direction of Gravity Falls.

Dysis called after her. "Bring me a souvenir!"

"Not a chance!" Alejandra called back.

Mother laughed, shook her head fondly, and silently slipped back into her tree.

* * *

Gideon waited until Ghost Eyes was snoring like a buzz saw before he finally approached the cat poster and removed it from the wall, revealing Bill Cypher's summoning circle. "I'm finally ready to make a deal," he said, drawing the missing eye on the center pyramid.

Light flared, and Bill manifested, his triangle shape cutting into reality and forcing all life and color to bleed away. Gideon fought the urge to shrink away as Bill circled him, eye fixed on him intently. "Well, if it isn't Gideon Gleeful, my old friend!" Bill said. His voice was cheerful and manic. "What can I do for you? Bring you a skinned dog? Torture your prison buddies? Rain fire and death on the warden?"

"No, none of that," Gideon snapped. He was playing it cool and confident, but inside he was shaking. "I- I want to make a deal."

"Well, obviously," Bill said, rolling his eye. "But are you sure? Our last deal kind of went south and that made me…" He suddenly grew in size, filling the cell from ceiling to floor as his gold turned to red, and his eye turned black. "Very unhappy," he finished in a deep, demonic voice.

Gideon couldn't help it. He cowered. "I- I'm sure!" he said. "Positive! A-and this time, there's no chance anything can go wrong!"

Bill immediately shrank back down to normal. "Really," he said. "Okay, lay it on me, kid."

Gideon straightened slowly. "I… I want you to turn me into a vampire."

If his request surprised Bill, the demon didn't show it. "That's easy enough," he replied, waving one black noodle hand nonchalantly. "Might even make you more useful. And in exchange, you owe me a favor. Deal?" He reached out his other hand, wreathed in blue flame.

So, the same price as last time. Gideon steeled himself, and took the offered hand. "Deal," he agreed.

* * *

Ford had finally come to the conclusion that his recently-discovered family, the twin grandchildren of his big brother Shermie, were actually… pretty amazing.

It had taken him a while to realize this, what with him being busy in his basement lab disassembling the universal portal that his twin Stanley had so foolishly repaired and activated. He was happy to know that he had a great-niece and nephew – it was good to know that at least one of the Pines siblings hadn't completely screwed up his life.

Establishing a relationship with them, however, had been… difficult. He wasn't used to children. He wasn't even used to the concept that he was finally back in his home dimension after thirty years. Mabel was sweet; her instant acceptance of his six-fingered hands was nice, but she was so random and chaotic, it was difficult to understand how her mind worked. (Not so difficult to understand was why she got along so well with Stanley.)

Dipper was another conundrum all together. When they had first met, Ford had the impression that the boy was anxious, sweaty, possibly suffering from mild hysteria, and completely obsessed with his journals and the fact that he was, as Dipper put it, _The Author_. Ford could practically hear the capital letters when he said it. It was disconcerting.

Now… well, all of that was still true. But when he had started playing Dungeons, Dungeons & More Dungeons with the boy, he discovered that behind all that anxious sweatiness was a keen and brilliant mind. Ford had nearly been rendered speechless the first time he observed Dipper accurately run a complex calculation in his head without needing to write it out, during his epic battle with Lethonial the Lying Lich. And then, reading through his third journal after so many years and finding Dipper's additions and observations, all of which were amazingly astute, he understood how wrong he had been to ever talk down to the boy as though he were an ignorant child. That was when he realized that his great-nephew was a true kindred spirit.

So he had told Dipper about the rift. If anyone would understand the danger it posed to their world, he knew Dipper would.

And then Bill Cypher had returned. Worse, when Ford called a family meeting to warn the children, he discovered that they already _knew_ him. Dipper had even been _possessed_ by the demon at one point. So while Mabel and some local girls went on their hopeless quest for unicorn hair, he had taken steps to protect Dipper's mind.

That had backfired spectacularly when Dipper's curiosity about Ford's former connection with Bill got the better of him. But now the boy knew the truth – and once again, he had underestimated Dipper's ability to handle it. Now there could be no more secrets between them.

And better yet, while he and Dipper had been commiserating over their mutual disastrous encounters with Bill, Mabel and her friends returned, battered, covered with unicorn blood and tears, and bearing fists full of unicorn hair. It was hard to deny then that, though it was often difficult for him to understand how her mind worked, Mabel was just as amazing as Dipper in her own way.

So Ford had placed moonstones throughout the Shack, sprinkled mercury in places where someone wouldn't accidentally come in contact with it and get poisoned, and now he and Dipper were working in the early morning hours, carefully gluing unicorn hair to the outside of the Shack. When they were done, the Shack would be completely Bill-proof, and his family would have a haven safe from that diabolical demon.

It was a painstakingly difficult job. They were a little more than halfway through when the sun had fully risen, and Mabel came barreling out the back door at top speed. "Hey, bro-bro! Grunkle Ford!" She paused as she looked at them, taking in their disheveled appearances.

Dipper waved a hand that was encrusted with glue and stray rainbow strands of unicorn hair. "Hey, Mabel."

Mabel walked up to them, frowning. "Have you two been out here doing this all night?"

"Of course," Ford answered. "Time is of the essence!"

"Sleep is also of the essence," Mabel responded, looking critically at her brother. The shadows under his eyes were more pronounced than usual, Ford realized.

Dipper laughed a little. "Don't worry, Mabel, we'll sleep when we're done here. Right, Great Uncle Ford?"

Sleep was the farthest thing from Ford's mind, but he saw the look in Mabel's eye. "Sleep. Yes. That thing you're supposed to do when you're tired. We will definitely sleep when we are done."

Mabel eyed him skeptically, and looked like she was about to say something, when the red-headed cashier girl walked around the corner of the Shack. Her left eye was still swollen and bruised from the unicorn battle the day before, but she seemed in an upbeat mood.

"There you are," she said. "You ready to go, Mabel?"

Dipper straightened. "Hey, Wendy. Where are you guys going?"

Mabel flashed a blinding grin – literally. The morning sun glanced off her braces and into Ford's eyes. He adjusted his position as Mabel leaned over Dipper conspiratorially. "It's a _secret_ ," she whispered loudly.

Dipper frowned, and looked at… Wendy, was it? "A secret?"

Mabel giggled. "Somebody's _birthday_ is coming up," she said in a sing-song voice.

Dipper blinked. "Who?"

Mabel shoved Dipper and he toppled over into the dirt. " _Ours_ , dum-dum!" she crowed cheerfully. "Wendy's taking me in to town to go looking for a present for a certain twin brother of mine!"

Dipper stood up and attempted to brush the dirt off his shorts, but only succeeded in adding glue and unicorn hair to the mix. "Our birthday, of course," he said, grinning, as Wendy muttered, "Well, _that_ secret didn't last long."

Ford looked at the twins, surprised and a bit unsettled as he realized he had no idea when their birthday was.

"Well, have fun," Dipper said, "and let's try not to have a repeat of—

"—our ninth birthday." Mabel finished his sentence with him. "Don't worry, Dip-dop, I'm pretty sure they don't sell tarantulas at the pet store." She and Wendy laughed as they walked off toward the town.

"Tarantulas?" Ford asked, raising an eyebrow at Dipper.

"I'm not afraid of spiders," Dipper insisted quickly, though Ford hadn't been thinking that direction. Who gives a tarantula to someone for their birthday? Well, his great niece, apparently. Dipper laughed uncomfortably. "She just… she got one with urticating hair. I had a rash on my hands and arms for weeks."

"Ah." Ford smiled. It figured that Dipper could use the word _urticating_ in a sentence. "Well, let's get back to work, shall we?"

Dipper nodded, and immediately knelt, picking up the glue bottle.

"Incidentally," Ford said, handing Dipper a strand of unicorn hair after he had laid down a straight trail of glue, "when _is_ your birthday?"

"August 31st," Dipper said. "Man, I can't wait. _Finally_ , I'll be technically a teen."

That was an odd turn of phrase, Ford thought. "Hm," he said. "That's about a week and a half away."

"Yup," Dipper agreed, then he frowned a little. "Mabel and I will be going back to Piedmont that afternoon." He carefully set the unicorn hair in the glue line, then held out his hand for another.

Ford blinked as he gave Dipper another strand of shimmering hair. He hadn't realized that summer was coming to an end so quickly. And with the end of summer, he would lose Dipper's company.

He needed to think about this.

* * *

"Who _says_ you can't have pizza for breakfast?" Mabel said, her mouth half full of one everything-on-it-except-the-little-fishies slice. It was a glorious morning, the sky was blue, the sun was shining, and she was pumped and ready to take on the day.

"I am pretty sure I have never said that in my whole life," Wendy said, before taking a bite out of her own slice.

They were walking down the street toward the mall, away from Pete's Pizza, which was only open this early because Sheriff Blubs liked pizza for breakfast too.

Wendy chewed and swallowed. "So, what do you think Dipper wants for his birthday?"

"Oh, he'd like anything I got him, just on principle," Mabel said, "but this year… well, it's different. We've had this amazing summer, and we're turning thirteen… I want to get him something special."

"Like what?"

"That's the problem," Mabel wailed, turning to Wendy. "I don't _know_! You gotta help me, Wendy."

"That's easy," Wendy said. "Just get him something that will remind him of his time here in Gravity Falls with you."

"Yes, but _which_ time? We've done so many things this summer!" She started counting off on her fingers. "Fight off gnomes, battle unicorns, zombies, dinosaurs, an alien shape-changer, Bill… We got Gideon sent to prison, freed a boy band into the wild, escaped a giant floating head that was trying to eat us…"

"I see your problem," Wendy said. "Well, let's just wander around the mall and see if anything catches your eye."

Mabel sighed. "Okay, let me just finish off my piz-"

"Well, well!" said a disturbingly familiar voice behind her, cutting her off, and Mable turned around so fast, she almost got dizzy.

"Gideon!" she said, before she could help herself, for it was indeed the short, pudgy, ten-year-old bane of her existence. She was about to ask what he was doing out of prison when several other things came to the forefront of her attention.

Gideon was holding a huge black umbrella in one hand, keeping him fully engulfed in shadow, but that did nothing to conceal the fact that his immaculate blue suit was completely covered in sparkly sequins. His skin was a dead-looking grayish-blue color. His irises were no longer blue, but bright yellow, ringed with red. And then, of course, there were the fangs.

"Gideon," she said, confused and horrified. "You.. you…"

"Dude," said Wendy, "since when are you a vampire?"

Trust Wendy to cut right to the chase. "Yeah," Mabel said, struggling to regain her bearings. "Since when?"

"Alas," said Gideon, putting his free hand to his chest dramatically. "It is a tragic tale." He looked up at Mabel and smiled, glinting fangs making him even more off-putting than usual. "One I would be happy to share with you over dinner tonight."

Mabel snorted as her confusion did a quick burn into anger as she realized what this was all about. "Yeah, right," she said. "I am _not_ going to dinner with you, Gideon, not now, not ever! Especially now that you'd probably want to drink my blood! Ew!"

"This is so wrong," Wendy said, her expression completely flat. "So wrong, on so many levels."

Gideon scowled briefly, before quickly schooling his expression. "But Mabel, my marshmallow. Just give me a chance." He knelt on one knee as he reached into his blazer pocket with one hand, then pulled out a small ring box.

"You have got to be kidding me," Mabel said.

Gideon ignored her, fumbling with the ring box as he struggled to open it with one hand. "Hang on," he said, grunting. "Almost got it… ah, there!" He looked up at her and held out the box. The diamond on the ring was impressively huge, and all it did was increase her rage. "Mabel," he said, "as you can see, I am a vampire now. Have dinner with me tonight, and I will make you my immortal que—AhhHHH!" His speech came to an abrupt halt as his outstretched hand left the safety of the umbrella's shade and burst into flame.

As Gideon frantically tried to put out his hand by patting it down against his sparkle suit, Wendy heaved a sigh. "Because nothing says 'romance' like the stench of charred flesh," she said.

"I can't believe this," Mabel said. "Yesterday ruined unicorns for me, today ruined vampires! You ruined vampires for me, Gideon!"

Gideon finished patting out the flames on his burning hand – "Ah, ah, hot-hot-hot!" – and then looked up, his gaze locking with Mabel's own. "Did I, now?" he said, strangely unperturbed.

His yellow eyes seemed to suddenly swirl, and Mabel felt her angry expression go slack. "Come on, Mabel. Agree to go to dinner with me."

"Agree…" she said slowly, and then she felt a sudden pinch on her arm. Startled, she looked up at Wendy. Wendy just gave her a look, as if silently saying, "Dude."

Mabel's eyes widened, and she turned on Gideon again, this time carefully avoiding his eyes. "Did you just try to _hypnotize_ me?" she yelled. Gideon actually took a hesitant step back in the face of her fury, but she stepped right after her him. "You big JERK!" And with that, she took what remained of her pizza slice and shoved it right into his face.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it wasn't for Gideon to stagger back and start howling in pain as he clawed the pizza off his face.

Mabel blinked, and looked at Wendy. "Are… vampires weak against pizza?" she asked.

Wendy shrugged. "I've heard they're weak against garlic."

"That's a lie!" Gideon said, gasping as he continued to wipe the pizza off his face. His skin seemed to be steaming a little. "All the vampire stories these days say that's nothing but a myth! It's too stupid for a vampire to be weak against garlic!"

"It might be stupid," Wendy said, her mouth turning up in a smirk, "but apparently modern vampire stories aren't very accurate. Who knew?"

Mabel raised a hand and pointed at Gideon. "Now, you listen to me," she said. "You are going to leave me alone and never come back. Wendy and I beat up a bunch of crazed unicorns just yesterday, and we're not afraid to take on the Widdlest Wampire!"

Gideon glared at her through the tomato sauce staining his face. It looked a little too much like blood for Mabel's liking. "You just wait, Mabel Pines," he said, holding tight to his umbrella and backing into the shadows of a nearby alley. "You will be my queen, I promise you that."

Wendy pulled her hatchet from her belt. Gideon's eyes widened in panic, and he quickly disappeared.

Mabel didn't even want to look down the alley to see if he was still there, lurking in the shadows somewhere. She sighed. "I think we need to go back to the Shack and tell the guys about this," she said.

Wendy nodded. "I think you're right."

* * *

A/N: " _The Light From the Sky Between Sunset and Full Night_ " is the Merriam-Webster dictionary definition of the word "twilight."

Thanks for reading! Feedback makes my muse happy and helps me write. Sorry that there isn't a cervitaur in the first chapter of a fic with cervitaur in the title. Patience, it's coming. :) This fic is directly inspired by the Monster Falls AU. I want to tip my hat to the author of Deerper Falls, an excellent fic, and the one that got me into this fandom in the first place. If you haven't read it, you should. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Ain't No Cure for the Cervitaur Blues  
A Gravity Falls Fanfic  
by Krista Perry  
I own nothing.

* * *

Chapter Two:  
 _In Which Dipper's Idea Thwarts Weirdmageddon, and Bill Teams Up With Gideon to Take Revenge_

* * *

It was with a great sense of relief and accomplishment that Dipper glued the last strand of unicorn hair in place. He backed away as the line of unicorn hair began to glow a bright blue and then burst outward, forming a perfect circle around the base of the Shack. From the glowing circle, a perfect, pearlescent dome engulfed the Shack. It glowed briefly with symbols before vanishing completely.

Dipper recognized some of the symbols. A few of them were universal, like the eye, but others were culture-specific. In the brief moment that they flashed before disappearing, he recognized a Celtic triskelion, some ancient Sumerian cuneiform, a few Greek letters, Chinese Hànzì, a few that looked Native American, and even some mathematical formulas. There were a few symbols that he recognized from the journals. Other symbols were completely alien to him, and Dipper wondered if Ford knew what they were from his interdimensional travels.

Argh, he wanted to ask questions _so badly_ ; wanted to bombard Great Uncle Ford with all his ideas and theories, but he was making a concerted effort to not come across as so… desperate and needy. Still, he _really_ wanted to know all the specifics of this protection spell.

"Perfect," Ford exclaimed. Dipper smiled, and made a show of dusting off his hands. "This will protect us from Bill. As long as we're inside, our minds are safe." He turned to Dipper, his six-fingered hand outstretched.

Dipper shook the offered hand, a feeling of pride swelling in his chest. He mentally shoved all his questions away, because this – _this_ moment was so amazing! _Him_ , working side by side with The Author, who wasn't _just_ The Author, but his _Great Uncle_. His _family_. Oh man, the things they could accomplish together! The future suddenly stretched out before him, bright and full of possibilities he'd never dared dream of.

Ugh, if only he and Mabel weren't going back to Piedmont in a week and a half. There was so much he could learn from Ford! But… on the other hand, the sooner they went back, the sooner he could start middle school and get on the path to getting into a great technical university and be recognized as a real scholar, and then nobody, not even Grunkle Stan, could doubt that he needed to be taken seriously—

"Gideon is a vampire!"

Dipper jerked in surprise, startled as Mabel came running around the Shack, followed closely by Wendy. "What?" he said. He couldn't possibly have heard that correctly.

The girls came to a stop in front of him and Ford. Wendy looked barely winded, while Mable was doubled over, panting for breath. "Gideon," Mabel gasped, "is a vampire."

"That's what I thought you said." Despite the confirmation, Dipper's brain was rebelling against parsing this information. Gideon. Vampire. Nope. Still not making sense.

"Who is Gideon?" Ford asked.

"Who is _Gideon_?" Stan responded, appearing in the back porch doorway. He was dressed in his suit, though his jacket was undone and his tie was loose. He was glaring at Ford with extreme irritation. "He's a ten-year-old twerp who found one of your journals, Poindexter. He used it to get up to all kinds of shenanigans, including stealing the Shack, and trying to take over the town."

"Ah," Ford said, scowling right back at Stan. Then he turned to Dipper. "Yes, I recall reading about your dealings with him in your journal entries. Truly, an _enfant terrible_. And you say he's a vampire?" he said, looking at Mabel. "Is this a new development?"

"Well, he wasn't a vampire before," Dipper said. "He seemed human enough just a couple of days ago when was controlling his dad from his prison cell. Then again, he's always been _really_ pale." He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes against the headache that was growing in his temples. "Mabel, are you sure about this?" Gideon, a vampire. Escaped from prison, on the loose, and a _vampire_. Ugh, this could be bad.

"Dude," Wendy said, and he looked up at her. "His skin was _grey_. He had this big umbrella, and his hand burst into flames when it left the shade. His eyes were this creepy red and yellow, and he had fangs."

"And he totally screamed and ran away when I shoved my pizza into his face," Mabel exclaimed. "Garlic crust for the win!" She turned to Wendy, and they fist-bumped, grinning.

Dipper sighed heavily, and looked up at Ford. "So… does this Bill-proofing protection around the Shack work on vampires?"

Behind Ford, Dipper noticed Stan narrow his eyes at his brother at the mention of _Bill-proofing_.

Ford didn't notice. "I'm afraid not, Dipper. This is a very specific spell against creatures of the Nightmare Realm."

"Great." Dipper groaned, and he began pacing with manic energy back and forth. "Do you know what this means? I've _read_ Stephen King! A vampire loose in a small town means everyone ends up dead or undead."

"This isn't a Stephen King book, Dipper," Ford said, reaching out and resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. Dipper stilled, and struggled to calm himself. "Vampires are dangerous, but they have weaknesses aplenty. There are ways we can protect ourselves and your friends."

Dipper shook his head. "But it's not just _us_ we should be worrying about. The whole town is in danger!" He paused, as a thought suddenly struck him. "And not just from Gideon," he said quietly. "Bill… we might be safe from him in the Shack, but what about everyone else? Bill knows—"

Dipper glanced at Stan, who was now sitting on the porch couch, and lowered his voice even more. Though, from the way Stan was looking at him - frowning, a barely visible hint of worry in his scowl - it was apparent that he wasn't missing much.

"Bill knows what's in there," he continued, knowing that Ford would know he was talking about the rift. "What if he possessed someone to get into the Shack?"

Ford chuckled. "If Bill tried to enter the Shack by possessing a body, he'd be kicked out the moment he tried to cross the barrier."

"But Bill is smarter than that," Dipper said, pacing again with nervous energy. His hands twitched and he wished he had a pen in his hand to click. "He doesn't need to do it himself. What if he possessed someone, and then got someone else, someone _not_ possessed, to do his dirty work?" Dipper suddenly came to a halt as a horrifying realization hit him. "And Bill knows Gideon. Gideon even summoned him once! And now Gideon's a vampire!"

Ford's expression grew grim as he also realized the seriousness of the situation. "You're right, Dipper. Vampires often take on human servants to do things they can't do themselves."

"Right!" Pacing. Thinking. "So we have to protect the town from both Gideon and Bill!"

Ford shook his head. "What you're asking is impossible, my boy. The scale alone-"

Dipper froze in mid-step. "No," he said slowly. "It's _not_ impossible." He smiled. The thought, already half-formed and gaining shape in his head made adrenaline rush through his veins, chasing away his exhaustion. "I have an idea!" He turned to Mabel and Wendy. "We're going to need Candy and Grenda's help."

Mabel looked at Wendy, who nodded. "We are on the job, bro-bro!"

"Come on, Great Uncle Ford," Dipper said, rushing by Stan and into the Shack. "You are going to _love_ this."

* * *

Ford watched Dipper rush into the Shack, feeling bemused. Was it possible that the boy had actually come up with a solution? He didn't doubt Dipper's brilliance, but he also knew that over-confidence could lead to fatal mistakes. Mabel seemed to have complete faith in Dipper – she and Wendy were already gone, off to retrieve their friends, he supposed.

He followed after Dipper, deliberately not looking at Stanley as he passed him on the porch.

Stanley reached out and grabbed his arm. Furious, Ford tried to yank out of the grip, but Stanley was holding him with a strength that reminded him of their younger years.

"If those kids get hurt, Sixer…" Stanley said, pinning him with his gaze. "If Gideon or that _muse_ of yours that turned out to be a demon harm a hair on their heads…"

Ford couldn't help it. He flinched as Stanley said _muse_. Of course Stanley had read the journals. He would have had to, to get the portal up and running again. So of course Stanley knew that he was responsible for Bill's presence.

Stanley let go of his arm, but didn't break eye contact. "I spent half the summer trying to keep those kids out all the supernatural stupid-ness of this place. But Dipper went and found your journal on his first day here. His first day! It was a guide book for getting into trouble!" Stanley finally looked away, and sighed. "If anything happens to Dipper and Mabel, Sixer… it's on you."

Ford stared at Stanley. He wanted to yell at him, to punch him in the face again. But he didn't.

"I know," he said softly.

He went inside the Shack and shut the door behind him.

* * *

Bill watched everything from the swirling chaos of his nightmare dimension. The fluctuating kaleidoscope of temporal probability was always before him, so he knew the exact moment when all the planning and preparation of thousands of years came to nothing. He couldn't read Pine Tree's mind, but he didn't need to at this point. He had been watching, and had been inside his head long enough that the kid was painfully easy to read.

So Bill saw Pine Tree's face when he had the Idea. And at that moment, countless probabilities that ended with his Weirdmageddon victory vanished.

"NO," Bill said. "NO, NO, NO, NO, _NO_!" He checked and double-checked, searching through every probability in moments. His chances of obtaining the rift and starting his apocalypse had just dwindled to almost zero, all because of that stupid kid!

He growled, deep and unearthly, turning void-black, his eye a pool of blood slashed with the black slit of his pupil. "PINE TREE..."

His options were limited now. _He_ was limited now, in a way he was never meant to be.

He would take those few options he had now and _make_ them work. But even so, now he was dealing with uncertainty. And he _hated_ it.

He hated Pine Tree.

He growled again, and he felt his minions shrink back into the far edges of the dimension in terror.

No matter how this ended, Pine Tree was going to suffer. And he planned to enjoy every moment of it.

* * *

It was in the early morning hours when Mabel dragged herself up the rickety wooden staircase to the attic bedroom. She had changed into her pajamas and had brushed her teeth, and she was ready for sleep. Waddles was already off in dreamland at the foot of her bed.

She crawled under the covers and sighed, smiling. She was sleepy, but man, did she feel accomplished! She and Dipper had both done amazing things today, and, tired as she was, she was still riding a bit of an adrenaline buzz. Mabel and Dipper, the Mystery Twins! Protectors of Gravity Falls!

Yeah, they were awesome like that. Mabel glanced over at Dipper's still-empty bed, and her smile soured a bit. He had promised he would be up right after her, and _finally_ go to sleep, but sometimes her stupid-head bro-bro didn't know when to take a break.

Still, he was the stupid-head who had figured out how to miniaturize Grunkle Ford's anti-Bill protection spell. Two drops of mercury, each sealed in ball bearing charms, and two small moonstones, all woven at evenly spaced intervals into a bracelet with a strand of unicorn hair. Tie it around your wrist, and _Pow_! Instant Portable, Personal Anti-Bill Field. (IPPABF for short, and pronouncing it was kind of like blowing a raspberry.)

After Dipper and Grunkle Ford had tested Dipper's idea (and when it worked, Ford had praised Dipper so much, she was sure her brother's head would explode), she, Candy, Grenda, Wendy, Soos, Dipper and Ford had turned themselves into a production line and had made almost four hundred bracelets. Tomorrow (or actually later today, she realized glancing at the clock) Dipper, Wendy and Soos would all go into town and distribute the bracelets.

She and her friends, on the other hand, would start Phase Two of their Vampire Awareness Campaign.

Phase One had involved contacting Shandra Jimenez and giving her a tip on Gideon's escape from prison. On the news that evening, Shandra, delighted about having real news to report, had wept tears of happiness as she reported that Gideon's vampire attack had left several guards drained of blood, and a few others in a hypnotic trance staring at nothing. "Witnesses described the attack as both adorable and terrifying," Shandra said, wiping a tear from her eye. Mabel sometimes thought that Shandra should move to a bigger town.

She herself had designed a flyer, complete with an illustration of her shoving a pizza slice into Gideon's face, detailing the basics of protecting yourself against vampires (information provided by Dipper). She and her girlfriend posse were going to put one up in every store window, on every telephone pole, and then go door to door to make sure everyone was well-defended against Gideon.

Together, she and Dipper were the new leaders of the Anti-Bill Anti-Gideon Defense Squad! (ABAGDS for short, and she decided the D was silent. Dipper said he never agreed to that, groaning loudly whenever she hollered "ABAGDS Assemble!" but he was too tired to come up with a different title, so she won by default.)

Mabel looked up as the door creaked open and Dipper finally staggered into the bedroom.

"And here's the man of the hour!" she said, sitting up, grinning from ear to ear and gesturing at him as though they had an audience.

"And what hour is that?" Dipper mumbled, his eyes barely open.

Mabel glanced at the digital clock on the table again. "2:47 am," she announced.

Dipper groaned. His eyes were sunken and bruised-looking, and he appeared every bit as exhausted as he should be after two days without sleep. He slipped off his shoes and shrugged his jacket onto the floor before climbing up on his bed, then tossed his cap on the bedside table.

"You know you'd be more comfortable in pajamas, Dip-dop," she said.

Dipper wearily raised a fist. "Laundry is over-rated," he proclaimed, and then face-planted onto his pillow.

Mabel reached over and turned off the lantern, smiling fondly as Dipper curled onto his side and immediately started snoring. _He even snores like a kitten_ , she thought, listening to the barely audible nasal wheeze.

Feeling peaceful and content, Mabel let herself drift off to sleep.

She awoke to the quiet sound of tapping at the window.

* * *

Gideon was ready to claim Mabel as his.

It had been a mistake to approach her during daylight hours, he realized. His new powers were greatly diminished while the sun was up. Not to mention she was with that barbarian Corduroy girl, who threatened him with an axe. He was pretty sure she couldn't kill him with a metal blade, but he wasn't eager to test his luck. Not while he was exposed to daylight at least.

After that initial setback, he had returned home. His parents were appropriately terrified, until he calmed them down with a little vampiric hypnotism. Such a handy new talent!

He had washed the remains of Mabel's pizza from his face. At first, he was horrified by the obvious burns, but they quickly faded. His scorched hand had already made a complete recovery. Such fast healing! It was a gift; a right blessing, it was. Why, if he'd known that being a vampire was so delightful, he would have made his deal with Bill ages ago.

He was fortunate that his room was already blacked out, because vampirism did have a price, and that was sleeping during the day to keep up his strength. Bill had briefed him on the requirements for the most restful sleep, so he had Daddy dig up some soil from the garden and spread it between the box spring and mattress of his bed. A little bit of home earth, instructions to his parents to not disturb him on pain of death, and he had the most restful sleep he could recall until the sun finally went down.

When he woke, he found he was still quite full from his prison escape the night previous; he _had_ overindulged just a tad. At first he had been worried that his tender tummy might be too sensitive for the, ah, type of meal he now needed to subsist on, but once he'd had a taste of the first guard that tried to stop him, all those worries went right out the window and he went whole hog, so to speak.

So, now that night had fallen, it was time to pay a visit to the Mystery Shack.

Every light on the main floor of the Shack was blazing when he got there, hovering amidst the trees. (Ah, flight, another glorious benefit of being a vampire! He knew he could also turn into a bat if he wanted, but he wasn't quite comfortable with that concept just yet.)

Cautiously, making sure no one was about to come out of the Shack, he flew over to the dark attic window over the museum entrance. He knew from his previous take-over of the Shack that the Pines twins shared a room there. That room was currently dark and empty. Scowling, he went back to hiding in the shadows of the trees and waited. He could be patient.

Hours passed. Growing agitated, Gideon kept pulling his smart phone out of his blazer pocket to check the time. Almost 2 am, and everyone in the Shack was still awake. Grumbling about people who didn't know how to go to bed at a decent hour, he passed the time playing with his Princess Fairy Tale Maker app.

Finally the lights on the main floor started to go out. Nearly holding his breath in anticipation (did he need to breathe now? Huh, he would test that later), he watched the attic window, and almost squealed when the light finally turned on. He saw Mabel crawl into bed, and he rubbed his hands together. "Soon, my sweet Mabel," he whispered.

He scowled when, a few minutes later, Dipper entered, but his nemesis merely collapsed on his bed and seemed to instantly fall asleep. Mabel turned off the light. Gideon smiled. Almost time.

When he was sure the entire household was asleep, he made his move. He wished he could just enter the Shack and do as he pleased, but apparently, he needed an "invitation." So instead, he glided over to the window and tapped on it gently with one perfectly manicured fingernail.

Mabel stirred. Gideon glanced at Dipper, but he still seemed deeply asleep. He tapped again.

Mabel sat up and opened her eyes. She looked out the window, and instantly, Gideon snagged her with his hypnotic gaze. Her eyes went wide and her expression went slack. "Mabel," he whispered. "Come outside. Come outside, and I'll fly you away from here and you will become my queen."

Mabel didn't respond except to slowly turn and walk, trancelike, out of the room.

The stairs would lead her to the back porch. Giggling at his success, he floated around to the back door and waited.

The door slowly opened, and Mabel stepped out on to the back porch, hands folded demurely behind her back.

"Mabel," he said, opening his arms wide, "my sweet little marshmallow!"

To his immense surprise, Mabel recoiled in disgust. "Ugh!" she said, and from behind her back, she produced an extra-large Nyarf Super Soaker. "Eat holy water, you vampire doofus!"

And that was all the warning he had before he had a face-full of liquid fire. He screeched in agony, flying backwards until he was out of range. He could feel the skin of his face melting. "My face," he screamed. "My beautiful face!" Oh, it was horrible, just horrible!

When the pain finally eased enough for him to think straight, he looked down to see Mabel still aiming the water gun in his direction. But if that wasn't enough, Dipper stood next to her, fully awake and holding a crossbow loaded with a wooden stake, aimed directly at him. To make matters worse, Stan Pines stood in the doorway looking down at the twins with an expression that could only be described as satisfied pride.

"H-how?" he spoke through malformed lips, looking at Mabel. "You were under my power!"

"Guess again, jerk-face," Mabel said, pulling a necklace out from her nightshirt. A small crystal vial pendant hung from the chain.

"A little mixture of my own creation," Dipper said, smirking up at him. "Holy water, silver, and wood shavings from an ash tree. Guaranteed to protect the wearer from vampiric mind control."

"Hah!" Stan called at him. "Eat that, you bloodsucking troll!"

Gideon heard Stan, but paid him no attention. All his fury and frustration was focused on Dipper. "How dare you," he snarled, but before he could continue, Dipper interrupted.

"No! How dare _you_ ," he said. "Face it, Gideon! Vampire or not, Mabel doesn't want anything to do with you." Dipper stepped forward, lining up the crossbow and putting Gideon directly in his sights. "And as long as I'm around, you'll never get even _this_ close to her again."

Gideon hissed, baring his fangs, eyes glowing amidst his scarred face. "You think you're so clever, Dipper Pines, but you just wait. I will have my revenge!"

Dipper met his gaze and slowly, deliberately yawned.

That did it. That was the final straw. Gideon turned and flew away from the Shack, knowing he was beaten. But though he had lost the battle, the war was far from over. The expression on his scarred face was half smile, half grimace of pain; the thought of vengeance against that insufferable brat in the forefront of his mind.

As soon as Gideon was well out of sight, Dipper sagged, exhausted down to his bones, and the crossbow slipped from his hands.

Grunkle Stan grabbed the weapon before it could hit the ground and accidentally go off, then put a hand on Dipper's head, ruffling his hair. "Good job, kid," he said. "That was some first class fighting back, right there."

Dipper tried to smile, but couldn't tell if he was successful or not. "Ugh, I'm so tired I can't feel my face."

Mabel grabbed his arm, laughing when he stumbled and ended up leaning heavily on her. "Come on, Brave Sir Dipping-sauce. I think you've earned a solid twelve hours of sleep, at least."

Dipper felt like he could sleep for a week, but didn't argue as she led him into the Shack and up the stairs to their room.

Grunkle Stan called after him. "Wendy and Soos will be working the gift shop tomorrow. You three can go into town with them to pass out those bracelet thingies when you've had some decent rest, and not a moment sooner, understand?"

"Understood, Grunkle Stan," Dipper replied, not sure if he was quite coherent or not.

That was the last thing he remembered before waking up the following afternoon, tucked snuggly into his bed (Mabel's doing, no doubt), and feeling much, much better.

* * *

Gideon shook with fury as he drew the summoning circle on his bedroom floor.

His face was healing, slowly but surely, and only because he had stopped by the Gravity Falls campground on his way home and helped himself to a couple of hikers from Portland.

Darn that Dipper Pines! He would regret ever crossing him. That boy had been involved in ruining every single one of his plans all summer long, but no more! He finished the circle with an angry flick of his wrist.

Bill arrived with his usual flair, draining all color from reality but for the two of them. "Gideon!" the demon said, swinging his cane and adjusting his tie. "Seems like just yesterday that you summoned me. Oh, wait, it _was_ yesterday."

"Cut the chit-chat, Bill," Gideon said, snarling. "I want a deal! I want revenge on Dipper Pines!"

Bill's eye narrowed, and suddenly his triangular body flashed scenes from the past few months, all of them showcasing Gideon's own failures, starkly contrasted against scenes of Dipper's cleverness and bravery - even events he wasn't even aware of. Since when did Dipper get on the front page of the newspaper? The quick flash of the photo showed him fearlessly using some kind of electric taser to capture a giant bat. And the Northwests, inviting him to their annual party in exchange for an exorcism? _Battling in gladiatorial games in a futuristic colosseum_?

Gideon clenched his fists, his fury growing with each new image. Bill was taunting him, but before he could say anything more, the demon once again became his usual yellow brick pattern.

"Revenge, you say." Bill was all too casual, and Gideon could have sworn there was a smile in his voice. "What exactly do you have in mind? I could kill him for you, no problem."

"I don't want him _dead_ ," Gideon snapped. "I want him to _suffer_! I want him humiliated, like he humiliated me. I want him to lose everything – his hopes and dreams, his family, his future! I want his worst fears and insecurities to become reality!" He paused, then said, in a low voice, "And I want him to know it was _me_ who destroyed him."

Bill laughed, long and loud, his cackle making even Gideon's undead flesh crawl, before he stopped abruptly. "Oh, I have just the thing," he said, his high-pitched voice deepening to a demonic drawl.

"A-and what do you want as payment?" Gideon suppressed a wince at his stutter. He shouldn't be so afraid of Bill, not when he was a powerful vampire now.

"There's an item hidden somewhere in the Mystery Shack," Bill said, and with a snap of his fingers, an image appeared of some kind of strange snow globe with splotches of star-studded darkness and galactic whorls swirling within. "I want you to get it for me. I don't care how. Deal?"

Bill held out his hand, wreathed in blue flame.

Gideon hesitated. The Mystery Shack, occupied by the Pines family who had all sorts of ways to defend themselves from his power. But then, Bill did say he didn't care how it was done…

"Deal," he said, and he shook Bill's hand.

* * *

Dipper had told Mabel that he was over Wendy. And it was true! Sort of…

It was true when he was watching movies with Grunkle Stan and Mabel, lying on the living room floor next to his twin as they stuffed themselves with snacks. It was true when he was working with Great Uncle Ford, or playing a nice, long, distracting game of DD&MD.

It _wasn't_ so true when he snuck a peek at his collection of Wendy photos he kept hidden in a box under his bed. And it certainly wasn't true when he was walking with her down the main street of Gravity Falls, distributing Anti-Bill bracelets to the shop-keepers while having one of their fun, but just-friends chats.

"—and high school class registration is this Friday and Saturday, and ugh. _Not_ looking forward to that."

Dipper made what he hoped was a commiserating noise, and Wendy looked down at him. "What about you and Mabel? You're both starting middle school, right? Have you guys registered for classes?"

Dipper shrugged, with a little, awkward laugh. "I… kind of already chose all my classes before summer started. My parents have already registered for me."

Wendy grinned. "Shoulda known. Let me guess – all honors classes."

"Well, that, PhysEd, and Photography," Dipper admitted. "Can't say I'm looking forward to PE. I've heard the horror stories." He shuddered, and Wendy chuckled.

"Dude, you've got nothing to worry about," she said. "You've been fighting monsters all summer long. Mabel told me how you took on vampire Gideon last night. And if you ever feel picked on, just remember, you took an axe to a murderous shape-shifter. You're like an action movie hero, dude."

Dipper gave her a grateful look. "Thanks, Wendy."

She tilted her head in a _no big deal_ gesture. "So you're all settled with school, what about Mabel?"

"Mabel's been writing back and forth with our parents, and I think she's almost got her schedule worked-" He broke off as he realized Wendy had stopped walking. She was looking across the road at a little street vendor stand. "What?" he asked.

"New guy in town," she said, nodding over at the vendor.

Dipper looked at the guy behind the stand. He had long brown hair with a matching beard and moustache. He was wearing jeans and a grey t-shirt, and was leaning back in his chair, hands folded behind his head, feet propped up on the stand. He was massive and muscled, and he was wearing reflective sun glasses. At the moment, the sky was overcast with clouds.

Wendy pulled a bracelet out of the bag she had slung over her shoulder. Dipper nodded, and they crossed the street together.

As they got closer, Dipper could see that the man's arms were covered in tattoos. A snake wound around his right arm, and… wait, was that a flaming poke-ball on the back of his hand?

Without a word, Wendy tossed the bracelet into his lap.

No reaction, no triangular demon forced out of the man's body. He looked down and picked it up. "What the hell is this?" he said, his voice low and rough.

"Friendship bracelet, man," Wendy said. "Welcome to Gravity Falls."

He grunted. "Whatever," then gestured to stand. It was covered with little ceramic figurines of baby animals. "Don't touch the merch unless you're buying."

Now that he wasn't worrying about a Bill-possessed stranger invading the town, Dipper looked at the figurines. They were all really cute, and completely at odds with the demeanor of the man selling them. Mabel would love them. A sign proclaimed them five dollars each.

Wendy must have read his mind. "Hey," she said, "aren't your birthdays next week? You should get one of these for Mabel."

"Maybe," he said. He glanced at the man, who seemed to be ignoring them completely, but it was hard to tell with those glasses. He looked down at the figurines to see if any seemed like a good birthday present.

Okay, definitely not the lamb. That was just… no.

The piglet was cute, but he knew that if he got it for her, it would remind her of Waddles and make her cry tears of happiness, sadness or both, since their parents weren't letting them bring the pig home. Mabel-tears of any kind were bad.

There was a baby deer; that was cute. And it would be a reminder of a good memory from the beginning of summer. They hadn't been in Gravity Falls for three days before Mabel found a lone fawn near the tree line around the Shack. Worried that the poor thing had been abandoned, she wrapped it in a towel and brought it into the house, determined to take care of it herself.

Fortunately, Soos told her how a mother deer would leave a baby bedded in the foliage for hours at a time while she wandered and grazed, and that the fawn's coloring and lack of scent were meant as a camouflage protection from predators. Reluctantly, Mabel returned the fawn to where she found it, and she dragged Dipper into a hiding spot where they could wait for the mother to return. Mabel watched the fawn for nearly three hours through her opera glasses, and Dipper spent the time reading through the journal, but finally Mabel's patience paid off. To her immense delight, the mother deer returned, and the fawn stood on wobbly legs to follow her into the forest.

Yeah, that would be a good present. The fawn wouldn't bring tears, and it could kind of be a bookend to their summer.

"Okay," he said, satisfied with his decision. He retrieved his wallet from his jacket pocket and pulled out five crumpled dollar bills. The man took the money wordlessly, and nodded for him to take his pick.

Dipper picked up the little ceramic fawn.

It dissolved in his hands into a fine black mist and seeped into his skin. "What the—" he said, and then the pain hit him right in the middle of his chest.

He doubled over and, through watering eyes, he saw all the other figurines vanish. The vendor stood up calmly and backed away, and then Dipper felt his bones turn molten within his body. He thought he heard Wendy calling his name, but he couldn't hear her very well over the screaming.

Too much pain, too many things going wrong with him all at once. His vision went dark. He felt himself diminishing, as though he was caught in the crystal shrinking ray again, but this time his bones were moving, thinning; his flesh twisting. His hip bones and shoulders shifted, turning inward, and he fell to his knees, but then he didn't have knees any more, and he collapsed onto his side. His legs were thinning, bones underneath the flesh both lengthening and growing shorter, and his knees were bent backwards somewhere, and he lost track of his feet, because his spine was cracking, his rib cage compressing, his neck lengthening, his organs seeming to swim inside him without direction, and still someone was screaming; a choking, strangled sound that was fading away.

His vision blurred back into existence, but everything was grey and out of focus. He could feel his hands, his fingers fusing together, bones combining, shrinking, thinning, hardening. His elbows were gone, wasn't sure when that happened. His skin itched like mad, as though thousands of millipedes were crawling over him.

The worst pain of all was in his head. His skull was shrinking, flattening, compressing, lengthening all at once, his brain screaming in protest at the pressure. The teeth in his head vanished and reformed strangely – not enough teeth - and his tongue felt too long, and his eyes, what was happening with his eyes? He could see too much, and not enough, and…

…and the pain, it was fading, finally. He tried to move, but his body was too weak, too completely alien and it just didn't work right, and now that the pain was finally disappearing, he felt a dark wave of unconsciousness swallowing him up, and he was so relieved it was over…

* * *

Wendy stared, feeling blood drain from her face as she looked at her friend-turned-fawn, the tiny, unmoving form tangled in the torn red shirt that had collapsed around him. It had happened so fast, but in the ensuing silence, Dipper's strangled screams still echoed in her head.

Letting long-ingrained instinct take over, she pulled her axe from her belt and turned toward the vendor, who was leaning, unconcerned, against the brick wall. He removed his glasses, and Wendy grit her teeth at the sight of his blank, glowing eyes.

And then, from the alley just to the man's left, a grating, recognizable laugh. Gideon emerged from the shadows with his umbrella. "Oh, that was delightful," he exclaimed. "Just delightful! Don't you think so, Ghost Eyes?"

"Sure was, boss."

Wendy crouched, ready to attack. "Gideon," she hissed through clenched teeth. "You fix this right now. Change Dipper back, or—"

"Or what?" Gideon said, sneering as Ghost Eyes stepped forward threateningly. "Ghost Eyes," he said, gesturing to the unconscious fawn. "Bring him to me."

Wendy stepped in front of the huge man, axe at the ready. "I don't know if you're from around here," she said, "but I'm a Corduroy. I can wrestle my dad to the floor, and he's twice your size, so if you think I can't take you on when I've got my axe, you've got another think coming." She shifted her stance, ready to defend Dipper with her life if she had to.

Ghost Eyes must have seen it in her face, because he looked back at Gideon uncertainly.

The little vampire glared at Wendy. "Fine," he snapped, but then he grinned, fangs glinting. "This isn't over by a long shot, girl."

"No," she agreed, her voice quiet and deadly. "No, it's not."

She stayed, standing protectively over Dipper until the vampire and his henchman disappeared into the shadows of the alley. This time, she followed, but when she peered into the darkness, no one was there.

She was not happy that Gideon could pull that kind of disappearing act. Not happy at all.

She turned back to Dipper, still lying amidst the shreds of his red shirt.

It was only then that she realized she had an audience.

The street was no longer empty. People stood on the sidewalks, all looking between her, and the sad little pile of clothes, cap and shoes crumpled around the tiny fawn.

They had heard Dipper's screams, she realized. They had emerged from the stores because of the agonized sound of his distress, and now they were all standing around, pale and stupefied. She had no idea how long they had been there, watching the drama unfold.

"Unless you know how to help him," she said loudly, "it's time for you to mind your own business!"

Moved to action by her words and threatening tone, the crowd dispersed, whispering to each other, disappearing back into the buildings.

News of this would be all over town by the end of the day, she thought, a dark pit growing in her stomach.

But that didn't matter now. She knelt next to Dipper. Her arms were shaking slightly as she gathered him, shirt and all, into her arms. He was so small, so light! He couldn't weigh much more than five pounds. She had barn cats bigger than he was.

What was she going to tell Mabel?

No. Now was not the time to think of that. She needed to get him home. She needed to get him to the Stans, because maybe one of them would know how to fix this.

Walking as fast as she could without jostling the bundle in her arms, she headed off the main street and onto the road that led to the Shack. There, up ahead, was a welcome sight – Soos, with his pick-up truck, helping Candy, Grenda and Mabel into the back seat.

Mabel caught sight of her and waved. "Wendy! We passed out all our flyers and need to go back to the Shack to get more! How did you and Dipper do with the bracelets?"

Wendy reached them, clutching the fawn to her chest, struggling to figure out what to say. Mabel looked at her, taking in her expression, her smile fading slightly, then looked behind her. "Where's Dipper?"

Wendy took a shaky breath. "Mabel… I—"

And then Mabel let out an ear-splitting squeal. "Oh my gosh, Wendy, you have a baby deer! It's so small! Look at how cute it is!"

Soos came up behind Mabel, frowning a little as he looked at the fawn in her arms. "Whoa," he said. "That little dude can't be more than a day or two old. Why'd you pick him up? His mom will be looking for him."

"This isn't a deer, Soos," Wendy said. She glanced at Mabel. "This is Dipper."

"No, I'm pretty sure that's a deer," Soos said.

"This is Dipper," Wendy insisted, wincing internally as she watched the color drain from Mabel's face. "There was a guy on the main street selling these little animal figures. They were magic or cursed or something. Dipper bought a deer, but when he picked it up…" She looked down at him in her arms. "This happened."

"What…" Mabel said, carefully reaching out and touching a shred of the red shirt she obviously recognized. "How? I… I don't understand!"

"Gideon was there," Wendy said, and Mabel looked up at her, alarmed. "He set it up somehow. He did this." She turned to Soos. "We need to get back to the Shack as fast as we can. The Stans might be able to help."

Soos nodded. "On it, dude. Hop in and buckle up."

The drive to the Shack was unusually silent. Mabel sat between Soos and Wendy, her eyes fixed on the unconscious fawn on Wendy's lap.

"Why isn't he waking up?" Mabel whispered.

Wendy winced. "It, uh… well, when he… changed…" She paused, groping for the right words. "It was pretty… intense."

"Oh." Mabel reached out and tentatively rested her hand on the fawn's head, gently stroking the soft fur between his ears.

When the Shack finally came into view, Wendy couldn't recall a time when she was happier to see it.

* * *

TBC

A/N: Many thanks to my daughter, who turns 11 a week from today, who read through this chapter looking for typos and assured me that it didn't suck.

And thanks to all of you who left reviews, faves, follows, kudos and comments. You made my writing muse very happy. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Ain't No Cure for the Cervitaur Blues  
A Gravity Falls Fanfic  
by Krista Perry  
I own nothing.

* * *

Chapter Three:  
 _In Which Bill Gloats at Dipper and Puts Plan B Into Motion, a Dryad Figures Out Where She Needs to Go, and Secrets Are Revealed_

* * *

Bill watched from the mindscape, patient and amused as Pine Tree followed the newly-formed paths of probability, right into his trap.

The power in the tiny ceramic figures wasn't his, unfortunately. Pine Tree's barrier-spell bracelet wouldn't allow _any_ of his power through, not even with his current deal with Gideon allowing him to manifest in the physical world.

To enact his revenge, he'd had to make a deal a few dimensions away for this particular artifact – a misty black orb of ancient magic that would take the shape of its owner's bidding. Once Bill had it, all he had to do was name the curse and the intended victim, and it was ready for its one-time use.

It was all too easy. Pine Tree was so predictable and sentimental, especially when it came to Shooting Star. Most all of the probabilities Bill saw led him right here to this fake vendor stand manned by Gideon's henchman.

Bill leaned forward eagerly as Pine Tree finally arrived. He was not disappointed. Once the kid picked up the fawn-shaped piece of the artifact, its magic took hold of him, shrinking and twisting his body, ripping away his humanity. Pine Tree somehow managed to find enough breath to scream - at least at first, which was impressive. Bill's eye narrowed with a predatory gleam as the clothes the kid was wearing loosened, then fell from his flailing, diminishing body.

One of Pine Tree's arms, turning rapidly into a thin, furred foreleg, spasmed uncontrollably. The stupid barrier-spell bracelet that the kid had shoved up under his sleeve so that it wouldn't slide off his stupid fleshy arm, went flying and landed somewhere in the street.

Perfect.

The transformation was almost complete when Pine Tree finally slipped into unconsciousness.

Bill pounced.

* * *

In the attic of the Shack, Dipper sat curled on his bed, legs drawn up to his chest, forehead resting on his knees, his fingers threading through his hair to clutch at his aching head. The pain seemed to pulse in time to a too-fast heartbeat. His thoughts were fuzzy and thick; trying to think was like trying to swim through cold tar. He couldn't remember how he got here, or why; only that he hurt all over, and his head felt like it was going to explode.

"Heya, Pine Tree! So, this is your unconscious sanctuary? Boring! It suits you!"

Dipper cringed at that familiar, always-too-loud voice, but he looked up anyway. Bill hovered less than a foot away, somehow managing to look smug with just the one eye. On some distant level, he realized that he was having a nightmare. Though he'd never had a nightmare _hurt_ so much before.

"You're not dreaming, kid, but you might as well be! You're unconscious because, thanks to a deal I made with Gideon, I turned you into a deer! Gotta admit, I was hoping you would go for the lamb. That would have been hilarious! But the deer is pretty funny as well."

Dipper struggled to comprehend what Bill was talking about, but it was so hard to think through the pain in his head. "Wh-what?"

Bill gave him a sly, sideways glance. "Oh, I almost forgot! Here, let me help you with that headache of yours," he said, and snapped his fingers.

Immediately, the pain in Dipper's head eased, and his clouded thoughts came into abrupt focus. Relief warred with anger as he glared at Bill.

"There!" Bill said, before Dipper could say anything. "Your head was hurting because your human mind was trying to process thought through a baby deer brain!"

Dipper blinked, suddenly frozen with dread, too-recent unwanted memories surfacing – memories of shrinking; of muscle and bone shifting painfully. "A… a what?"

Bill laughed. "A baby deer brain! Because you're a baby deer now!" he said, spreading his black stick-figure arms wide, his eye crinkling with humor.

Dipper found himself shaking his head in denial, but Bill ignored him. "The higher cognitive functions of a human mind trying to push itself into a deer brain is kind of like an AI trying to run on a 4-bit cpu," the demon said. "It just ain't happening! That's why your head hurt! So I just gave your higher mental processes a little metaphysical space to function outside your brand new tiny little lump of deer brain flesh! After all, none of this would be any _fun_ if you're too stupid to understand what's happened to you!"

Dipper struggled to speak through the lump of fear growing in his throat. He had to know. "What did you do to me?"

"I thought you'd never ask!" Bill said, and a little screen appeared just below his bow tie. "Look at this! This is you, Pine Tree!"

Dipper watched, growing numb with horror as he saw himself, standing next to Wendy in front of the vendor stand. He picked up the little ceramic fawn and… he changed. Viewing the unnerving metamorphosis from the outside brought an echo of agony shivering through his body. It seemed to happen so fast, but the pain had made it seem like forever.

So… he was a deer. Bill had transformed him into a fawn and he remembered because he had _felt_ the whole thing, and now he was unconscious in the mindscape with Bill and _what the heck_! Seriously, how was he even supposed to _react_ to this?

He looked down at himself, flexing his fingers. He appeared human, but he realized that what he looked like right now meant nothing here, because he was in the mindscape. This was how he thought of himself, so this was how he looked in his own mind.

"Check this out, Pine Tree," Bill said gleefully. "This is you, right now, at this very moment!" The screen showed Dipper a close-up view of the tiny little deer that was now his body, lying on the sidewalk, unconscious and tangled in the remains of his shirt. Dipper looked with horrified fascination in spite of himself. That fawn… was him. He knew it, but it didn't seem real. He just couldn't wrap his mind around it – not while he felt perfectly human here in his mindscape.

But what about when he woke up?

The screen disappeared. Dipper looked away from Bill as he slid off his bed and began pacing back and forth between his and Mabel's beds, but he was shaking. He wrapped his trembling arms around his chest, trying to control his anxiety. "Why?" he asked, because this made no sense at all. "Why did you do this?"

Dipper turned in his pacing to find Bill just inches from his face. Startled, he backed up, but Bill followed until he hit the wall and had nowhere else to go.

"Because," Bill said, all humor suddenly gone, his eye narrowing. "You ruined everything. You, a stupid _meatsack_ , managed to set my plans back by decades, maybe even centuries. I was _this_ close!" The demon made a tiny space between thumb and forefinger.

Dipper straightened, realization burning through his dismay. "Then… then it _worked_ ," he said, amazed. "With the bracelets I invented, and everyone on their guard against you… you can't get into the Shack."

Bill's eye turned red with fury, his expanding form flickering with the void, his voice deepening and distorting. "Sixer couldn't stop me, that seven-eyed know-it-all in Dimension 52 couldn't stop me, but _you_ …" Bill reached out with his cane and poked him roughly in the chest, pinning him to the wall. "You're so _very clever_ , aren't you, Pine Tree. So very _brave_. Sixer would never have looked to protect anyone but his own family, but _you_ just had to try and protect the whole town."

Dipper looked Bill directly in the demon's blood red eye and felt a smile tugging at his lips. "I defeated you," he said, feeling a bit euphoric despite the pressure of the cane against his chest; despite what misery was waiting for him when he woke up. Bill was taking this revenge on him because he had _proven_ himself a _real threat_. Bill, the Biggest Bad in Gravity Falls, had been forced to take _him_ seriously. He laughed, short and sharp. "And _this_ means you can't get to the rift now and start your apocalypse."

Bill suddenly shrank back down to his yellow self, and the high, manic laugh he let out immediately replaced Dipper's euphoria with dread. "Sorry to burst your bubble, Pine Tree, but all you did was force me to move to plan B! I hope you've enjoyed your moment of victory for that little inconvenience you caused me, because now I'm going to tell you what you have to look forward to for the rest of your life." Bill twirled his cane as though he was out for a carefree stroll. "And, for your information, it _doesn't_ involve graduating high school with a high GPA, and getting accepted into a good technical college with a photography and media production minor so you can start your own ghost hunting show!"

Dipper shook his head, not even questioning how Bill knew his plans for his future. "No way," he said, full of determination. If he had managed to unravel Bill's apocalyptic plans, he could break whatever stupid curse Bill had placed on him. "I'll figure out a way to fix this."

"Ah, now, see, that's one of the main things I wanted to tell you!" Bill said. "Remember how I gave your higher brain functions a metaphysical space to work separate from your deer brain so that you could fully appreciate your predicament? The only time you'll have full access to your human mind will be here, in your mindscape! When you're awake, you can _try_ to think, you can _try_ to force all that cleverness into that inadequate little meat blob, but," he said in a sing-song voice, "it'll cost you!"

Bill chortled as Dipper felt his burst of confidence drain away, his eyes widening with uncertainty. Distantly, his head began to ache again.

"And the best part?" Bill said. "Even if you manage to succeed in squeezing some smarts into your deer brain, it won't matter! If your brain ever has to choose between deer instinct and human intellect, instinct will win. _Every. Single. Time_." The demon punctuated each word with a poke of his cane to Dipper's chest. It didn't really hurt, but Dipper rubbed the spot over his heart anyway.

Bill suddenly checked a watch that popped into existence around his wrist. "Oh, look at the time. Red will be done threatening Gideon's henchman soon, so I'd better wrap this up. Speaking of Gideon, he wants you to know that it was his deal with me that allowed me to do this to you!"

Of _course_ Gideon was involved, Dipper realized. Bill couldn't have the power to curse him like this without a deal giving him access to the physical world. This wasn't just revenge, it was _double_ revenge. He groaned miserably, sliding down the wall and putting his head in his hands.

But Bill wasn't finished.

"Hey, Pine Tree, I know how much you were looking forward to turning thirteen next week, so just to be nice, your new body is thirteen! Thirteen _hours old_ , that is. But, hey, I'm doing you a favor, making you so young! Do you know the average life span of a wild white-tailed buck? One and a half to two and a half years!"

Dipper shivered, Bill's words making him wish he could shrink in on himself and disappear.

Bill's laugh was grating. "Then again, if your family decides to keep you in captivity, you could live as long as, oh, eighteen to twenty years! So just keep that in mind when you're being bottle-fed the next few—guh!"

Dipper looked up as Bill was abruptly cut off, just in time to see the barrier-spell flash as it slammed into the demon and forcibly shoved him out of Dipper's mindscape. Dipper stared a moment, then realized that, somewhere in the real world, he was back in the protective field of one of his bracelets. Maybe Wendy had retrieved the one he lost in his transformation. Or, more likely, she had just picked him up and was carrying him. The thought made him burn with embarrassment.

Dipper heaved a weary sigh, and once again rested his head on his knees. It didn't matter that Bill couldn't reach him now, the damage was done.

The thought of waking up and not being human, not having full access to his own mind, and –he had to face the brutal truth of it – living as an infant animal… It terrified and sickened him.

But he couldn't hide in his mindscape, unconscious, forever. He had to wake up sometime, and if he couldn't find a way to break the curse Bill had put on him, his life was as good as over.

* * *

Alejandra knew that she had to be nearing Gravity Falls when the first gnome started following her.

She had put a glamour on herself when the sun rose that morning, knowing that she was getting close and not wanting to blow her cover. She looked like an ordinary human hiker with a huge pack and bedroll on her back, and even a walking stick that she had grown right out of her own arm. The one thing she didn't change was her hair – long, and various shades of green, with the tips just starting to tint autumn gold. That was one of the best things about the 21st century. Her hair color was finally in style. Or, at the very least, not a dead-giveaway that she wasn't human.

It wasn't long before the single gnome was joined by several others. Had she been human, she probably wouldn't have noticed them. They were making a genuine effort to be stealthy, and not doing a half bad job of it. She figured they were just curious about a stranger in their part of the woods, and decided to ignore them.

Until those several gnomes were joined by about a hundred or so more. They were on all sides now.

She sighed, stopped in her tracks, and yelled, "All right, gnomes! Come out and tell me what you want, or stop following me and go away!"

There was a loud rustling noise as several hundred gnomes stumbled out of the foliage, surrounding her in a circle of pointy red hats. Some of them looked feral, with sharp teeth, making grabby motions at her with their stubby little hands. Ugh.

One of the gnomes stepped out from the group and stood in front of her. "Well," he said, "so, you already know we're gnomes, so we've got that out of the way. That makes this easier.

She knew she was going to regret asking. "Makes what easier?"

"Making you our gnome queen, of course. We'd appreciate it if you didn't give us any trouble. We… we've had kind of a rough time trying to get a new queen the past few months."

She stared at him.

"So," he said, clearing his throat since she wasn't responding. "My name's Jeff, and this— "

"No," she said.

Jeff put his hands on his hips. "Aw, come on! You didn't even give us a chance to introduce— "

Alejandra reached out her right hand, palm up, and made a simple pushing gesture in the air. Thorny brambles shot out of the ground, entangling all the surrounding gnomes. She ignored the many exclamations of "Ow! Ow! Ow!" and leaned over Jeff, who was looking at her with dawning comprehension.

"Hello, Jeff," she said. "My name is Alejandra. I've been sent by the Mother of the Wood to Gravity Falls on a mission of utmost importance. I trust I can count on your cooperation?"

Jeff's eyes widened as she spoke. "Yes, ow!" he said. "Of course, ow, ow! Just, ow, let us go, please? Ow."

Alejandra put out her hand, palm down, and pushed. The brambles disappeared into the ground, leaving behind a few hundred humbled, scratched-up gnomes.

Jeff took a moment to mournfully look over his injuries, before giving her a sheepish look. "So, uh, Miss Alejandra. Sorry for the, uh, whole trying-to-make-you-our-queen thing. What can we help you with?"

She really doubted that these creatures could be of any help, but it couldn't hurt to ask. "Mother sent me to Gravity Falls to find a twelve-year-old human boy."

"Huh. Never really been good with being able to tell exactly how old humans are." Jeff scratched his beard. "Did she tell you anything that could narrow it down? There are a lot of kids in Gravity Falls."

Alejandra shook her head. "She just said that I would know him by his human spirit."

Jeff blinked at her. "Well, that doesn't really narrow it down at all."

"I know!" she said, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "What does that even _mean_?" She sighed. "I don't suppose you have a suggestion of where I should start looking?"

Jeff shrugged. "Well, I'm not sure. But whenever I want an earful of human gossip, I always lurk around Greasy's Diner. Humans talk about all sorts of things in there, especially now that the Blind Eye Society is gone. Oh, and Lazy Susan makes a _great_ pie."

Blind Eye Society? She wasn't even going to ask.

She _did_ ask for directions to Greasy's Diner, which Jeff was happy to provide, and within the hour, she was emerging from the forest in to the town of Gravity Falls proper. Twenty minutes later, she was walking through the door of the diner, which looked like a redwood log on the outside, and a train car on the inside.

She walked up to the counter and made a show of hefting her pack to the floor before taking a seat. She looked around. There were a few people eating in the booths, but each seemed to be on their own, and not much conversation was happening.

"Well, hello there, stranger!" Alejandra looked up to see a smiling woman wearing a pink dress and a stained, white apron, head piled high with grey hair. One of her eyes, covered in blue eye-shadow, sagged closed. "What can I get for you?"

Alejandra couldn't help but smile back. "Are you Susan, by any chance?"

The woman gaped. "Why, yes I am! How did you know?" She lowered her voice slightly and leaned forward. "Are you psychic?"

"No," Alejandra said, laughing. "I talked with some of the locals, and they mentioned you make a great pie."

Lazy Susan beamed. "Oh, that's so nice! Would you like to try some?"

"Yes please."

Lazy Susan turned, as if to go fill her order, but paused and turned back. She fished around in one of her apron pockets and pulled out a colorful knitted… tiny scarf?

"Here," Lazy Susan said, holding it out to her. "It's a Gravity Falls Welcome Bracelet! You hook it around your wrist." Alejandra took it, surprised at the strong tingle of magic she felt as she held it in her hand. "Oh," Susan continued, "and it wards off demons!"

Alejandra blinked. "Demons?" she said. She knew this was where the aborted apocalypse was supposed to take place. "Do you… have a lot of trouble with demons in this town?"

Lazy Susan gave her a confused look with her good eye. Then she shrugged. "If we did, we don't any more. Not with these things!" She held up her own wrist, displaying her bracelet. She lowered her voice again and frowned slightly. "We do have a bit of a vampire problem, though, what with Lil Gideon going and getting himself all monster-fied to escape from prison. But there's a flyer on the window over there that tells you what you need to do to protect yourself from that little scalliwag, if you need it."

Alejandra looked, and there was indeed a flyer with the headline, _The Pines Twins' Guide to Warding Off Vampire Gideon_.

"Thanks," she said, slowly turning back to Lazy Susan. She knew Gravity Falls had a reputation for being a supernatural hot spot, but she had no idea the locals were so… casual about it.

"You should put that bracelet on so that no one thinks you might be demonically possessed," Lazy Susan said, all smiles again. "I'll go get you a slice of pie. Would you like coffee with that?"

Alejandra nodded absently. "Black as midnight on a moonless night, please," she muttered, holding up the bracelet for careful examination. Moonstones. Mercury encased in steel ball bearing charms. And unicorn hair?

She glanced around the diner again, and realized that all the other patrons were wearing the bracelets. How extraordinary! She hooked her bracelet around her wrist, and the instant the two ends were brought together, there was a flash of magic. A transparent, pearlescent sphere appeared around her, shining with various symbols, before fading away. The protection magic lingering in its wake was almost tangible. She stared in amazement.

 _Magic protection bracelets that ward off demons, and a vampire public awareness campaign_ , she thought. _Well, that's_ one _way to fend off an apocalypse_.

Lazy Susan came back with a slice of cherry pie and a mug of steaming black coffee. As Susan set them on the counter, Alejandra picked up the mug of coffee, inhaled, then carefully sipped. She closed her eyes. _So good_.

Her fellow dryads didn't share her love of human food, preferring soil, water and sunlight, but as far as she was concerned, all organic material ended up as fertilizer one way or another.

She took a bite of the cherry pie and made and appreciative noise, pointing at it with her fork. "Great pie," she said, her mouth still half full.

Lazy Susan beamed. "Just let me know if you want seconds."

Alejandra quickly swallowed before Susan could wander off. "Hey, I don't suppose you know who made these bracelets, do you?"

"Oh, that would be Dipper Pines," Lazy Susan said. "He and Wendy Corduroy came by a few hours ago and left me some to hand out to customers." She paused thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, it was right after his sister, Mabel, came in to put up one of her flyers."

"The Pines twins," Alejandra said, realizing.

"Yes!" Lazy Susan said. "Do you know them?"

"I didn't know anything about them until I came here," she said. She glanced back at the flyer on the window. "But it must be nice, having a couple of supernatural experts living in this town."

"Oh, they don't live here. They're just here for the summer, staying with their great-uncle Stanford at the Mystery Shack until school starts."

Mystery Shack? That was a name of a tourist trap if ever she heard one. Alejandra's curiosity was well and truly piqued. "Really?" she said before taking another bite of pie. Chew. Swallow. "What university do they attend?" Was it possible that high magic was being taught somewhere out in the human world?

Lazy Susan laughed. "Oh, they don't go to university, silly! They're just kids!"

Alejandra froze, a bite of pie halfway to her mouth. "Kids?"

"Sure!" Lazy Susan put her elbows on the counter, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Did you know, I heard tell that Dipper was the one who broke the ghost curse on the Northwest Mansion and opened the gates for the town a few weeks back. Some say Pacifica did it," she said, scoffing, "but just leave it to a Northwest to try and take all the credit."

"Uh…"

"And you just _know_ I kept the newspaper clipping of that boy fighting off a giant bat! I put it in my cat scrapbook, even though there's no cat in it." She laughed heartily. "Such a little kid being so brave while Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland were busy screaming their heads off behind him. Cracks me up every time I look at it." She sighed, wiping a tear of laughter from her good eye. "You wouldn't think the boy would have it in him to look at him, he's such a scrawny little thing, always with his head in a book."

Alejandra carefully put her fork back on her plate. "I see," she said, her mind spinning. "How old _are_ these kids?"

"Hm." Lazy Susan tapped her chin thoughtfully with a red-painted fingernail. "You know, I've never thought about it. They look like they could be eleven or twelve, maybe."

"Twelve," Alejandra repeated. If this Dipper Pines wasn't the boy she was looking for, she'd bet her entire DVD collection that he'd at least be able to point her in the right direction. "And they are staying at this Mystery Shack with their great uncle?"

"They sure are. If you go there, say 'hi' to Mr. Pines for me."

"I will," she said. "Thanks." She intended to go there as soon as possible.

After she finished her pie and coffee.

* * *

The Shack was slowly settling into stillness after a bout of complete chaos.

Wendy had explained everything, and the Grunkles had engaged in a shouting match that made Mabel's head hurt, with lots of blame being thrown around. _If you weren't so obsessed_ , and _If you were more responsible_. Back and forth, back and forth. It almost got physical, at which point Wendy intervened. She had pushed Stan away, telling him to go do something useful, then turned on Ford. _You're the author of the journals!_ she'd said, gesturing to Dipper, who was curled in one of her arms. _Help him!_

Grunkle Ford had looked completely stricken, reaching out a hand as if to touch the tiny, unconscious fawn, before pulling away. He had mumbled something Mabel didn't catch, then quickly retreated to the basement.

Now Mabel sat on Grunkle Stan's chair in the TV room. Dipper, who was a _fawn_ , was curled up on her lap, still unconscious, and she was starting to feel sick with worry. Why wasn't he waking up? She gently stroked the baby-soft fur between his ears. "Come on, bro-bro," she whispered. "You gotta wake up. I know this is scary and… and embarrassing for you, but we can fix this. Just wake up and let me know you're in there."

She looked at Soos, who was looking at Dipper and wringing his hands. Candy and Grenda had gone home, giving her anxious, apologetic looks as soon as the Grunkles started shouting. She understood. That had not been pleasant. And poor Wendy was standing with her back against the wall, looking more stressed than Mabel had seen her since they had been captured by the Blind Eye Society.

Grunkle Stan came in from his office holding a pair of scissors, and knelt next to her. "Alright, kiddo," he said. "Let's get him out of that shirt. There's not much left of it anyway."

Wordlessly, she moved her hands so that Stan could cut away the remains of Dipper's shirt. As Stan pulled away the red shreds of cloth, Mabel was amazed again at how small Dipper was. "Why is he so little?" she asked. She had never seen a fawn so tiny.

"He's just young, dawg," Soos said. He seemed like he was trying to sound reassuring, but he was still wringing his hands in obvious dismay. He looked at Stan. "Mr. Pines? My… my Aunt Margarita works at the wildlife rescue center by the lake. I used to help her when I was a kid, and Dipper… he's gonna need some stuff that we don't have here. Food and medicine and stuff."

Grunkle Stan straightened. "Then what are we waiting for, Soos? Let's go get what he needs." Stan pulled his car keys from his suit pocket and walked out the door.

Soos, looking immensely relieved, followed. At the doorway, he paused and looked back at her. "It's gonna be okay, Mabel."

"Thanks, Soos," Mabel said, and he nodded at her before going out the door.

Mabel was petting Dipper's head and ears, and his smooth, spotted back. Dipper would probably hate being pet if he were awake, but he wasn't, and she was drawing comfort from the almost automatic actions. With every stroke of his fur, she could feel his little body expand and contract with his breathing.

Wendy said something under her breath, and Mabel looked at her. "What?"

Wendy was looking at her feet, and she clenched her fists. "It's my fault," she said. "I told him that one of those stupid things would make a good birthday present for you."

"It's not your fault," Mabel said. Her voice grew hard. "It's Gideon's. And whatever else happens, we're going to make him pay. Right?"

Wendy looked up, and Mabel was startled to see that her eyes were red and maybe even a little wet. But after a moment, the guilt in her expression was replaced with a steely glint, and a slow half-smile grew on her face.

"Right," Wendy said. "Wendy and Mabel," she announced. "Vampire Hunters."

Mabel smiled back grimly. "I like the sound of that."

* * *

Ford rummaged through the dismantled pieces of the portal, looking for the parts he needed for the invention forming in his head. The first step in helping Dipper would be to determine the nature of the power responsible for his transformation. Once he knew that, then he could figure out how to counter it.

He grunted, lifting a heavy piece of metal off a portal fragment to get to the delicate innards within. Frowning, he knelt and examined the small connections to the dimensional displacers, but they were completely blackened and melted. He sighed. He would have to go on another scavenging trip to the UFO crash site. That would take hours, but with Dipper's help, he was sure they could…

Dipper. Right.

Ford sat on the floor amidst the portal ruins, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Dipper had such a bright future ahead of him – one that could have been unmarred by the mistakes Ford had made. And now the boy, through no fault of his own, was paying for those mistakes.

He sighed.

Stanley was right. This was his fault.

His fault. So he needed to fix it.

Wearily, he pushed himself to his feet and headed for the elevator. He stopped in his private study to check on the rift.

The sphere holding the rift was cracked.

He wasn't surprised. The sphere had been a temporary fix at best. It was just as well he was headed to the crash site, since it looked like he needed to find some of that alien super-adhesive sooner rather than later. He grabbed a disruptor pistol and his magnet gun from his weapons stash on the way out.

He was climbing the stairs to the main floor when he heard the laughter – a loud, echoing and too-familiar high-pitched cackle coming from outside the house.

Putting on a burst of speed, he ran up the stairs and out the door of the gift shop. To his dismay, Mabel and her friend Wendy were already out there, staring at a tall, muscular, tattooed, and very possessed man.

His eyes were wide, glowing yellow with black-slit pupils, and his lips were pulled back in smile too wide and too full of teeth to be human.

"That's the guy," Wendy said, snarling. Ford noticed she was hefting a one-handed axe like she knew how to handle it, and he wondered what its attack stats were before he could stop himself. "He's the guy working for Gideon that sold Dipper the figurine."

"No," Mabel said, her voice low and scared. "That's—"

"Bill," Ford said. "Get out of here." He pulled the disruptor blaster from his jacket and pointed at the man. "I don't want to kill the body you're in, but I will if I have to."

Bill laughed again. "Go ahead, Sixer! Gideon has lots of prison pals ready and willing to do his bidding, and that includes providing me with a temporary meatsack whenever I want!"

Ford grit his teeth. The vampire kid and Bill were working together. This was so much worse than he thought.

"You cursed Dipper for him," he said.

"Why, yes! Yes I did!" Bill's grin was stretched so far, Ford could see the possessed man's back molars.

"You evil butt-face!" Mabel yelled. "You change him back right now!"

Ford grimaced as Bill turned his attention on his great-niece. Why did she have to come outside and put herself in danger? And where had she left Dipper?

"Actually, Shooting Star," Bill said, taking a step toward her.

Ford aimed the disrupter. "Not one move, Bill, or you'll be looking for another body sooner than you think."

Bill froze, but turned and smirked at him before looking back at Mabel. "As I was saying, Shooting Star, that's actually the reason I'm here. I'm more than happy to turn your brother back into his nerdy, noodle-y human self!"

"Yeah, right!" Mabel scowled, and Ford glanced at her from the corner of his eye in surprise. "What's the catch?"

"Ha! You're almost as clever as your brother! Of course I want something in return! All I need," he said, turning back to Ford, "is the rift your grunkle has hidden in the Shack."

"Forget it, Bill," Ford snapped. "You are never getting your hands on that rift."

"Grunkle Ford?" Ford looked at Mabel. She was looking at him with huge eyes filled with hurt. "What's this rift he wants? Are you sure you can't give it to him? What about Dipper?"

"Uh-oh!" Bill said, laughing. "Seems like _someone_ has been keeping secrets!"

Ford groaned inwardly. "I'll explain it all later, Mabel. All you need to know now is that if Bill got his hands on the rift, it would mean the end of the world."

"Wait," said Wendy, staring at him. "Are you saying you've got some kind of doomsday device hidden somewhere in the Shack?"

"It's perfectly safe," Ford said, getting irritated. He did _not_ want to have this conversation while he was holding Bill at blaster-point. "And Dipper did everything he could to protect it from Bill. That's why we made the protection barrier. It's why Dipper invented the barrier bracelets." He turned his full attention back to Bill in sudden realization. "And it's why _Bill_ cursed Dipper."

He knew he'd hit the nail on the head when Bill's manic smile started turning into a scowl, yellow eyes narrowing.

"That's it, isn't it?" Ford said. "The vampire kid is just another one of your tools. Dipper prevented your apocalypse. The curse is _your_ revenge."

" _Prevent_ is a strong word, Sixer," Bill said, his eyes taking on a red gleam. "More like… _temporarily delayed_."

"And how long is this _delay_ , Bill? You waited thirty years for the portal to be reactivated and didn't seem too bothered. Are we talking a century or two?" Ford smiled darkly. "Maybe a few millennia?"

For a moment, Ford thought that Bill was going to lose it. But after a pause, the disturbing, manic smile was back.

"You'll have to wait and see!" Bill said. "Like I said before, Sixer, I have big plans! And lots of new, powerful friends!" He winked. "We'll be seeing you soon!"

Ford's finger tightened on the trigger of the disruptor. "Get out of here."

Bill turned, still smiling, and, without fanfare or parting jibe, walked to the tree line and disappeared into the forest.

Ford sagged, putting the disruptor pistol back into his jacket.

"Grunkle Ford…"

Wincing, he turned to look at Mabel. Her eyes were wide and wet, and her expression was one of someone who had been deeply betrayed.

"Dude," Wendy said, crossing her arms and glaring at him. "You've got a _lot_ of explaining to do."

"Yes," he said, slumping down to sit on the gift shop steps. "So… let's see… where do I begin?"

"The beginning," Wendy said, and Mabel nodded. "Try not to leave out anything important, like why there is a rift in the Shack that can end the world."

Ford took a breath, and began.

* * *

Inside the Shack, curled on his Grunkle Stan's chair, alone and unsupervised, Dipper opened his eyes.

* * *

TBC

A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! :D

For those of you who caught it, yes, that was a Twin Peaks reference. :)

Please review! Pretty please? Like it, hate it, let me know. Writing is more exhausting than it used to be (or maybe it's just been so long that I don't remember), but I'm doing it with the hope that someone out there is enjoying this.


	4. Chapter 4

Ain't No Cure for the Cervitaur Blues  
A Gravity Falls Fanfic  
by Krista Perry  
I own nothing.

* * *

Chapter Four:  
 _In Which Dipper Learns that Human Thoughts and Infant Deer Brains Don't Mix, Mabel Can't Decide Whether to Squee or Cry, and a Dryad Gets In Over Her Head_

* * *

Dipper woke up hungry, and completely disoriented. Before he even opened his eyes, his nose was assaulted with strange, overwhelming scents. His ears lifted and flicked back and forth. So many sounds. Loud. ( _Familiar_.) He could hear ( _talking?)_ His nose twitched, and he opened his eyes.

His first sight of the world made his ( _head hurt, what, how is that possible, I can see almost everything around me, peripheral vision should_ not _go that far, and it's in sharp, sharp focus, everything, and colors are- ow, my head… colors are- are- what's the word? Gone? No no no-_ desaturated _, that's the… the… my head hurts, pain, pain)_ pain, pain stop!

He held perfectly still, unmoving, unthinking.

 _(It'll cost you!)_

The strange ( _memory_ ) echoed in his head as the pain receded, but he didn't understand what it meant. He was hungry.

Cautiously, he looked around. It ( _was familiar)_ felt safe.

He was supposed to stay. Stay and stay and stay and not move and be safe until his mama came to feed him. But he was hungry and he didn't even smell his mama, didn't even know what she _should_ smell like and that was scary and bad.

His mama ( _no, that's_ not right _, Mom's not here she can't help she… she's in Cal… cali… mont… ugh, hurts…)_

Mama wasn't coming and he was hungry. Safe here. Hungry. He moved his hind legs, unfolding them and then carefully moving them, trembling with effort, until he stood on hind hooves, kneeling on his forelegs. He pushed up with his forelegs until he stood, front hooves carefully spread to keep his balance as he wobbled.

Tired already.

But hungry.

And in a small place up high. Trapped?

 _(No no, not trapped, stupid, think! I… I'm human! Not… not a helpless-)_

The agony that came with trying to think beyond simple deer instinct was blinding. He closed his eyes and tried not to move, trembling with the effort of standing until the ache faded again. Any human thought, he realized with dismay, no matter how small, came with the price of pain.

( _It'll cost you!_ )

He understood now. But even that understanding brought with it a swell of agony. _(Gotta… gotta pick my battles if I want any control. Keep it simple…)_

 _(Chair. Grunkle… chair. Get down. Find help.)_ Hungry. Need to find his mama…

Shakily, he stepped one hoof off the chair and fell to the floor in an uncoordinated tangle of legs.

It didn't hurt but ( _embarrassing)_ now he was tired and would have to stand all over again.

He untangled himself, folded his legs beneath him, and lay there, waiting for what little strength he had to return. His ears swiveled back and forth, catching all kinds of strange sounds. In the distance, beyond the creaks and groans and hums _(of the Shack)_ he could hear _(voices)_ , loud, soft, rising, falling. So many smells, thick and heavy in the air. He sniffed and sniffed, and his tongue flicked out to lick his nose when it itched. ( _Ew, gross…)_

He looked around. So ( _strange_ ). Faded colors.

( _Except… the aquarium. Starkly blue amidst washed out colors. That_ is _strange. Why is that? Do my eyes just not have the longer cones that see the green and red parts of the spectr-_ )

The bolt of pain that stabbed through his head was so sharp, so painful, he couldn't help but let out a bleat of distress. He pressed his head, chin down, to the floor, ears laid back, his whole body shivering in reaction. His head throbbed in time to his too-quick pulse. It seemed like a long while, lying still and letting complex thought fade into a fog of animalistic simplicity, before the pain slowly dulled to a low ache.

( _Don't wonder why. Why hurts. Why is bad_.)

Finally, he lifted his head again.

Hungry. Still hungry. Still so tired. Where… where was his mama? He was hungry and he needed his mama…

Deep within him, the sheer _wrongness_ and _persistence_ of that mortifying newborn deer instinct inspired a muted burst of anger, fear, and rebellion in his clouded mind. ( _No!… I… I'm Dipper Pines! I'm human! I'm almost thirteen years old! I'm not really a baby deer, I can't be, I_ won't _let this curse make me_ think _-_ )

Pain. Great, harsh pounding in his head ascended to an agonizing peak and beat down his fierce human indignation, smothering it until it was little more than a weak, barely-felt protest. Animal instinct filled his mind and his senses with the need to stay bedded down and wait for his mama to find him and feed him.

( _no…_ ) Hazily, he understood that giving up and letting his infant deer instincts rule him was bad, but, as the pain slowly faded, he couldn't remember why.

Dazed, blinking slowly, his gaze was drawn to the ( _blue_ ) again. ( _water..._ )

In the water, a little animal swam around.

He looked at it, confused. Curious. ( _curious…_ )

Gathering his strength, he slowly pushed himself from the floor until he stood again on four thin, trembling legs, and stepped carefully toward the swimming thing, sniffing, his nose twitching as he investigated the strange creature.

( _Not a fish. Pale. It has legs. Sala… salamander._ ) He expected pain at the ( _thought_ ), but none came.

It was looking at him. It was ( _smiling_ ).

The smiling salamander winked at him, and vanished. Water rushed in to fill the salamander-shaped space left behind.

Dipper startled backward with a little bleat, and fell on his rump.

( _What… what was…?_ ) He stopped. He wanted to ( _think_ ). He wanted to ( _wonder_ ). But the ache began to rise again, and he couldn't take much more; it was already too much and he was _so tired_ of hurting so he let the ( _human thoughts_ ) sink away.

Hungry. Find help. Find mama.

He struggled to stand again, the strange, smiling creature already forgotten.

Ears up and alert, he followed the sound of ( _voices_ ), carefully making his way up a few ( _steps_ ) to an ( _open door_ ) that led to the ( _gift shop_ ). Through the thick fog that filled his mind, he understood that human words and concepts were peppering his deer thoughts and instincts like light, slightly stinging drops of hot rain. But it wasn't something he was consciously trying to do, and the pain was minimal.

His little hooves clacked softly on the wooden floor, and he glanced around, noticing again that, amidst all the clutter of the gift shop, ( _blues_ ) and ( _purples_ ) were bright and vivid. Instinctively, he stopped his thoughts from going beyond just noticing.

Until he saw the ( _sign_ ).

The ( _sign_ ) on the ( _door_ ) he'd just walked through, the one he had seen every day, all summer long. The ( _sign_ ) that said… something. He blinked at it. It was supposed to say something, _mean_ something, and Dipper felt a very human surge of horror as he realized he couldn't ( _read_ ).

He staggered back and almost fell again. ( _No no no, this is wrong!_ ) He stared at the ( _sign_ ), fighting against the spike of pain that abruptly split his skull as he tried to force the ( _sign_ ) to make sense. Tried to make the incomprehensible marks look like ( _letters_ ) so the ( _letters_ ) could form ( _words_ ).

( _Fight the pain,_ fight _it, look,_ read _!_ ) The marks stubbornly refused to become legible in his mind, and ( _hurting, hurting… no… please… no…_ ) darkness ate away at his vision. As he struggled, refusing to give in, the pain in his head became excruciating beyond anything he had ever felt, and for the first time, Dipper understood the magnitude of what the curse had done to him.

( _I can't read, oh no, I can't_ read, _I can't_ think, _I'm_ trapped, _I'm just a dumb animal,_ _I'm never going to break this curse, I'm stuck this way forever…_ ) The despair that weighed heavy in his chest matched the pain in his head. His thin legs were shaking as darkness closed in. What little strength he had abandoned him, and he collapsed to the gift shop floor, barely conscious, breathing hard, his head throbbing in time to his pounding heart.

It was then that he discovered that deer couldn't cry.

* * *

Mabel stared down at her hands, clasped in her lap, as she listened to Grunkle Ford explain about the rift. And what he was saying was not okay.

She understood that the rift was an accidental result of the portal's activation, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that Grunkle Ford was placing the blame for the rift's existence on Grunkle Stan. That he was saying that rebuilding the portal was dangerous, foolish, irresponsible, and that doing so had given Bill his chance to end the world.

"His second chance, you mean," Mabel said, looking up at him.

"What?" Grunkle Ford's genuinely puzzled expression only exasperated her.

"Bill's second chance to end the world," she said, getting to her feet. "You gave him his first chance when you built the portal in the first place, thirty years ago."

Wendy nodded. "Mabel's right, dude. If you're going to start throwing blame around for this whole mess, we might as well go right to the source."

Grunkle Ford had the decency to look ashamed and looked away. "Yes… well," he said. "Bill deceived me."

"That's right," Mabel said. "Bill deceived you and tricked you into building the portal. If anyone is to blame for any of this, it's _Bill_. Not you. And not Grunkle Stan!"

Grunkle Ford looked at her, startled. She didn't know if it was because of her words, her angry, indignant tone, or both, but she wasn't about to stop now. These thoughts had been weighing on her for too long, ever since Grunkle Ford had stepped out of the portal and punched Grunkle Stan in the face. She was too upset now to curb her tongue.

"You asked Grunkle Stan to come here thirty years ago, just so you could send him away with one of your journals. He came here hoping to reconnect with you, and you try to send him away, all because the journals are so dangerous. If they are so dangerous, why didn't you just destroy them? Why hide them? Why ask Stan to come here only to take one away? Didn't you miss him? Weren't you even a little glad to see him? He's your twin brother!"

Grunkle Ford paled. "Mabel..."

"Don't 'Mabel' me, Grunkle Ford," she said, hands on her hips. "And then, when you got sucked through the portal during your fight, you told Stan to do something! Well, he did! Even though you were a jerk-face to him, he spent thirty years doing everything in his power, trying to get you back! Doesn't that tell you something? Doesn't that mean _anything_ to you? And when he finally does it, do you have one kind word for him?" Her chest heaved and tears stung her eyes. Grunkle Ford had sense enough to not interrupt her this time.

"My twin brother is in trouble," Mabel said, scrubbing her sweater sleeve against a tear that managed to slip down her cheek. "It's Bill's fault. It's Gideon's fault. But I don't care _whose_ fault it is. I'm going to do everything I can to help Dipper and get him back to normal. I don't care if it takes thirty years!"

Abruptly, she sagged back down to sit on the gift shop steps, all her anger spent. She put her face into her hands. "But I… I don't know where to start," she said, her voice hoarse and weary.

Wendy put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Whatever it takes, I've got your back," she said, and Mabel looked up to give her a grateful smile.

Grunkle Ford cleared his throat. She looked at him, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. "I… I have a few ideas," he said. "I was on my way out the door to get a few things when Bill…" His voice failed him for a moment, and he took a deep breath, still not looking at her. "Anyway, I'll be gone for a few hours. I should be back before dark, and then we can look at our options."

Mabel felt a brief spark of relief. Grunkle Ford had ideas to help Dipper. And while he was a huge stupid-head when it came to people, he was super-smart when it came to science and magic. "Okay," she said, quietly. "Thanks, Grunkle Ford."

He nodded stiffly, still not looking at her. "I'm off then," he said, and headed into the tree line opposite where Bill had disappeared a while earlier.

When he was gone, Wendy shook her head, snorting. "Wow, Mabel. You really let him have it."

Mabel sighed, getting to her feet. "Yeah, well, I'm tired of both my Grunkles being grumpy and sad all the time. And they can't help Dipper if they are too busy being angry at each other over stupid—"

She broke off as a soft thump sounded from inside the gift shop.

She exchanged an alarmed glance with Wendy before running to the gift shop door and flinging it open, Wendy close on her heels.

"Dipper!" She cried his name as soon as she saw him crumpled on the floor. "You're awake!" She rushed to his side and knelt next to him. The tiny fawn blinked slowly, seeming unfocused, and Mabel realized that he was visibly trembling. "Oh, Dipper," she said, putting a gentle hand against his flank, and she looked at Wendy. "He's shaking! What's wrong? What—what do I do?"

Wendy's expression was a mask of calm. "Don't freak out," she said. "You take him into the TV room, and I'll go grab a blanket."

"Okay." Mabel hovered over Dipper a moment, feeling scared and uncertain, before gathering the small, shivering form into her arms.

His eyes widened as she lifted him, and he jerked, panicking, trying to wriggle out of her grip. "Dipper!" She tightened her embrace so she wouldn't drop him. "Dipper, it's me! Calm down, it's me, Mabel!" For a terrifying moment, she thought he didn't recognize her; that there might not be anything of her brother left in the fawn. But as she called to him, his struggling stilled.

Still trembling, he looked up at her. His eyes were deep, startling blue with a wide, thin line of black pupil. Mabel didn't know what to make of that – Dipper's eyes were brown, like hers – but before she could question it, the fawn closed his eyes and pressed his head against her, burrowing into her sweater.

"Aw, bro-bro," she said softly, her brows creased. A sad frown tugged at her mouth as she carried him into the TV room and sat down in Grunkle Stan's chair. Dipper looked up briefly as she situated him on her lap, helping him tuck his long, gangly legs beneath him, wincing a little when his sharp hooves caught on her skirt. Tremors still wracked his small body, and, after looking up at her again, he buried his head in the crook of her arm. Hiding.

Mabel couldn't quantify what she was feeling. On one hand, she was deeply scared for her brother, and on the other… oh gosh, he was just about the _cutest_ thing she'd ever seen in her life. She felt caught between crying and squealing, and ended up doing neither. Instead, she stroked the baby-soft fur between Dipper's ears and smoothed the spotted reddish fur on his back. To her relief, he didn't protest, and his trembling started to ease. "It's gonna be okay, Dipper," she whispered. "We'll figure this out and get you back to normal right away. Grunkle Ford says he already has some ideas, and he's out getting some supplies, or something…"

She just wanted to squeeze him in a huge hug because he was so small and adorable, but she knew her brother well enough to know that if she did, she wouldn't be doing him any favors. He didn't like being called "cute" or "adorable" under normal circumstances. Now? Really not a good time.

Finally, his shaking stopped, and he lay in her lap, just breathing.

Wendy walked in with the blanket from Dipper's bed and brought it over to her. She took it and tucked it around and under Dipper like a nest, putting some padding between her legs and his sharp little hooves. "Thanks," she said.

Wendy looked at Dipper, who still had his head almost completely buried against her side. "How is he?" she asked.

Mabel shook her head. "I don't know. But he seems to recognize me, so that's good."

"Of course he recognizes you," Wendy said. She smiled, but it seemed a little forced. "You're his twin sister."

Mabel smiled, then stifled a gasp as Dipper raised his head and curved his long neck around to look at Wendy.

"Whoa, Dipper," Wendy said, as she knelt beside the chair, situating herself in front of the fawn. "You have blue eyes."

Dipper's nose was twitching at Wendy, and Mabel thought she would die from the cuteness of it. "I've never seen a blue-eyed deer before," Mabel said.

"Some fawns are born with blue eyes, just like some babies are," Wendy said, and Mabel felt relief from a worry she hadn't even realized she'd had until that moment – that the blue eyes were somehow a sign of something bad.

Dipper was still looking at Wendy, his nose still twitching, and Wendy laughed a little. "Dude, when you change back, you're gonna have to tell me what I smell like," she said, then shook her head. "Must be weird for you."

"Why?" Mabel asked, even though Wendy was talking to Dipper.

Wendy shrugged. "Deer have, like, a better sense of smell than even dogs."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Better even than bloodhounds." Wendy turned back to Dipper, a teasing smile on her face. "So you're gonna tell me what I smell like. And no lying because you think you might hurt my feelings."

Dipper didn't react, except to keep sniffing in Wendy's direction, and suddenly the knot of worry in Mabel's stomach seemed to turn icy cold.

Dipper didn't react to Wendy's teasing.

"Dipper?" she said, even as she saw Wendy's smile fading. "Dipper? Can… can you understand me?"

Wendy gave her a startled look. "What?"

"He's not responding to our words," Mabel said, anxiety seeping into her voice.

"Dipper," Wendy said, looking directly into his face. "You better not just be messing with us or ignoring us. Do you understand what we're saying? Nod for yes."

The fawn stopped sniffing, then laid his head on Mabel's lap, resting. Mabel licked her dry lips, and took a deep breath, trying to ease the choking sense of panic that was rising in her throat. "Dipper?" she said.

He simply blinked, looking sleepy.

"Wendy," she whispered, "he doesn't understand us." Her eyes stung, and she sniffed. She wouldn't cry. Not yet.

"Aw, dude." There was quiet horror in Wendy's voice.

"What if Dipper isn't in there?" she asked, unable to keep her voice from rising with her fear. Dipper's ears flicked her direction, but otherwise he didn't respond. "What if—what if there's nothing left of him? What if there's nothing left of my brother to change back to himself?"

Wendy reached out and grasped her shoulder in a comforting grip, Dipper lying peacefully in her lap between them. "Calm down, Mabel," she said. "It… it's too soon to be guessing on something like that. He's probably just in shock or something. Think about it. He just woke up a few minutes ago to find himself like this, and we found him shaking himself to pieces in the gift shop. He's probably just tired."

As if to confirm her words, Dipper's eyes slipped close.

"See?" Wendy said. "He's just all tuckered out."

Mabel forced herself to take a deep breath that did nothing to loosen the knot in her stomach. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, you're right."

"'Course I am." Wendy grinned again as she got to her feet, and if she was disturbed over any of this, Mabel couldn't tell. "Now, why don't we watch some mindless television while we wait for the guys to get back?"

Mabel found her hands once again petting Dipper's soft fur. The fawn didn't care. Dipper would have cared, and she couldn't help but wonder for a bleak moment if he was really Dipper at all. "Yeah," she said. "Mindless TV sounds good."

* * *

Dipper found himself in the attic bedroom. It was drained of color, and he knew he must be asleep.

He groaned and flopped backward onto his bed as all his memories from being awake flooded through his mind. From what Bill had told him, gloating and smirking, he knew it would be bad, but he hadn't understood just how bad it would be.

He hadn't recognized Mabel. When she picked him up in the gift shop, while he was still in so much pain from the effort of trying to read, he had panicked. He had looked right at her and hadn't recognized her, his own sister, his twin.

He only realized she was safe from her soft voice, and her overwhelming, familiar scent. A scent that was all Mabel - the tang of dyed yarn and glitter glue and scratch-and-sniff stickers. She smelled of wind and stuffed animal felt, of pancake syrup and Waddles. Her scent told him so much more than what his red-green color-blind eyes could show. As she carried him to the TV room, he could smell her relief, her happiness and her anxiety. And somehow he understood that being able to smell emotion almost to the point of tasting it was perfectly normal.

It had only taken one brief moment of trying to understand what Mabel was saying before the pain stabbed through him, and he immediately shied away from the effort.

Dipper groaned again and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Like the rat in the Skinner Box, the pain had conditioned him away from trying to think like a human… and he had let it happen.

When he had been awake, safe and settled in Mabel's lap, he hadn't cared. It didn't bother him that he didn't recognize Wendy until he sniffed at her. Or rather, it did bother him, but not enough to risk the pain that came from being anything more than a fawn. He was too weak to fight it.

"Too weak," he muttered to the empty room. "What am I going to do?"

How could he help in breaking this curse on him, when he couldn't even communicate with the people trying to help him? When he couldn't even _think_ enough while awake to come up with a solution?

He was completely helpless. All he could do was hope that Grunkle Stan and Great Uncle Ford would find a way to fix this.

He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his mind turning in circles. But there was relief in this. As Bill had said, here in the mindscape, while he slept, he was himself. He was human. Complex thought wasn't choked out with the punishment of pain.

And then, he felt a tugging, right in his center. He sat up, and suddenly he could hear voices.

Grunkle Stan said, "We're back."

Soos said, "And we've got some stuff for Dipper."

He heard the voices, understood the words, and as the attic room started to fade around him, he realized he was waking up.

"No," he said, his voice cracking, even as the fog rose in his mind. "No, I'm not ready, I don't want to wake up yet, _no_ —"

* * *

Mabel couldn't concentrate on the Ducktective re-run, even though it was one of her favorite episodes. The TV screen wasn't nearly as interesting as Dipper, even though he was asleep. Though his eyes were closed and his breathing soft and slow, his ears were up and alert and kept twitching toward the TV with every new voice or loud noise or piece of music.

It was so cute, she almost couldn't handle it. Almost.

That was how she guessed when Grunkle Stan and Soos were back, even before she heard them. Dipper's ears suddenly swiveled away from the TV and toward the back door. A few moments later and she heard the door open and Grunkle Stan and Soos walked in.

"We're back," Grunkle Stan said, as though it weren't obvious.

"And we've got some stuff for Dipper," Soos said, holding up a few shopping bags hanging from his fists.

Before she could ask what they had bought, Dipper stirred in her lap. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, and immediately his nose started twitching in Grunkle Stan's direction.

Grunkle Stan looked at Dipper, then shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyes suddenly looking everywhere except the little fawn. "Oh, uh, you're awake. So… how's it going, kiddo?"

Wendy snorted from where she sat on the floor in front of the TV. "You know he can't talk, right?"

"Of—of course." Grunkle Stan, looking uncomfortable and irritated, crossed his arms. "Doesn't mean I can't say hi."

Mabel looked down at Dipper who, again, wasn't responding except to sniff at the newcomers. "I don't think he can understand us, either," she said, somehow managing to keep the quiver out of her voice.

"Really?" Grunkle Stan's eyes widened, and he unfolded his arms. He leaned over and gave Dipper a piercing look. "Hey, kid, when we get you back to normal, I'm gonna make you clean out the storage room from top to bottom and then do inventory."

Mabel hoped for some reaction from Dipper, but he had turned and was now sniffing in Soos' direction.

Grunkle Stan frowned. "I think you might be right," he said, straightening. "No way that wouldn't get a rise out of him."

"But…" Mabel bottom lip began to tremble, and she bit it until it stopped. "But what does that mean?"

"It don't mean nothing, kiddo," Grunkle Stan said. "Look, it ain't that surprising he can't understand us. You don't go through something like that—" He gestured at Dipper, who leaned out to sniff at his outstretched hand. "—without getting your brains a little scrambled. He'll be fine when we change him back."

Grunkle Stan's confidence was contagious, and Mabel found herself smiling a little. "Yeah," she said. "He'll be fine. Won't you, bro-bro?" She went to pet his head again, but as she did, he turned and nuzzled her hand. The timing was probably a coincidence, but she couldn't help beaming at the sign of affection. Then, to her surprise, his little pink tongue darted out and licked her fingers. She couldn't hold back her squeal of delight. "Oh my gosh, baby deer kisses!" She leaned over to snuggle him and gently wrapped her arms around long neck. "I love you too, bro!"

Now, regardless of her previous fears, she knew, just _knew_ that, brain scrambled or not, Dipper was in there somewhere.

"So what's in the bags?" Wendy asked.

"Mostly food," Soos said, putting the bags on the floor. "Fawns can't drink regular cow milk, it makes them sick. So I got some powdered milk made specially for fawns from my aunt at the animal rescue center. And some bottles to feed him."

Grunkle Stan grunted. "Huh, just as well his brains are scrambled. Can't see him going for that at all. Knowing him, he'd probably starve himself first before letting himself be bottle fed."

"Like I'd ever let him do that to himself," Mabel said, knowing that Grunkle Stan was probably right. Un-scrambled Dipper would definitely put up a fight over that, even though it was silly. So while she certainly wasn't happy that, in his current state, Dipper couldn't communicate with them, the up-side was that she was going to get to bottle-feed a baby deer! Sheer cuteness overload! And Dipper wouldn't remember it. Probably.

"Well, if anyone could talk him into it, you could," Grunkle Stan said. "Now, where's that ungrateful brother of mine? I hate to admit it, but if anyone can figure out how to reverse this, he can."

"Oh man," Wendy said, leaning forward. "You missed a ton while you were gone." And she proceeded to fill in Grunkle Stan on the encounter with Bill, and how Ford was off finding stuff to help Dipper.

"Did you know about the rift?" Mabel asked. Grunkle Stan was scowling, but she couldn't tell if he was scowling about one particular part of the story, or if it was one all-encompassing scowl.

"No," Grunkle Stan growled, his fists clenched as if he was looking for someone to punch, and Mabel was suddenly glad that Grunkle Ford was off on his errand. "But I'm not surprised. Ford had better get back here soon, because I have a feeling we're gonna have some visitors trying to get to this stupid rift of his."

Mabel looked at him, eyes wide. "You think Bill and Gideon might attack the Shack? But what about the anti-Bill shield, and all our anti-vampire weapons?"

"It's not them I'm worried about, sweetie," Grunkle Stan said. "It's Gideon's prison thug squad."

"Oh." Mabel's throat felt tight, and she held Dipper a little closer, her arms encircling him protectively.

Wendy got to her feet, her hand at the axe looped through her belt. "Well, I _was_ going to head home soon, but if you're expecting company, I think I'll stick around."

Grunkle Stan nodded at her, and they exchanged grim smiles. "Then I'm going to close up the gift shop. You go lock down the rest of the Shack."

"You got it," Wendy said.

Mabel smiled as Grunkle Stan and Wendy left to fortify the Shack. She had witnessed Stan punch a pterodactyl in the face, and fight his way through a zombie army. And just a few days ago, Wendy had done some serious damage to those jerky unicorns with her bare fists. With her axe in hand, she was a force to be reckoned with. Mabel definitely felt more secure knowing they were going to protect the Shack from regular human threats.

Grinning, she turned to Soos. "Soos," she said in her most authoritative voice. "Mix up a bottle. I have a brother to feed."

Soos straightened, one of the bags in his hand, and threw her a salute. "Aye aye, Mabel," he said, and marched off to the kitchen.

* * *

Gideon stared at Ghost Eyes – or rather, Bill in Ghost Eyes' body. He didn't like that his best prison buddy was currently serving as Bill's host, but Bill had assured him that Ghost Eyes was fine and would get his body back soon.

"So you're telling me," he said slowly, "that the Stanford Pines I've been dealing with this whole time was really his twin brother Stanley."

"That's right!" Bill said, pulling Ghost Eyes' mouth into an unnerving grin. "And now your henchmen and I are going to go capture Stanford while he's out scavenging for parts! While we're gone, you keep an eye on the Shack."

Gideon looked through the thick stand of pine trees toward the west where the sun was setting, far too slow for his liking, and clutched the handle of his shade umbrella. "Why do you need to capture Stanford? I thought you said he wouldn't hand over the rift even if his life depended on it."

"Oh, _he_ won't," Bill said, yellow eyes glowing in the fading light. "But Stanley will."

Gideon looked at the demon with open skepticism. "How do you know that?"

Bill scoffed. "Oh, please! The guy spent thirty years repairing the portal just to bring his brother back! Stanley may act tough, but inside he's just a big sap. I dangle his precious twin in front of him, and he'll hand the rift right over!"

Gideon wasn't so sure about that. Stanford… er, Stan _ley_ was nothing if not crafty. "So why can't I go with you?"

"Because," Bill said, and though he still smiled, there was an edge to his voice that said he was tiring of questions. "You need to make sure that Stanley doesn't leave the Shack until we get back."

"Oh." Gideon swallowed, hating how just the change in Bill's tone and the ever-so-slight glare in his eye could make him want to hide. "Well, okay then."

Bill laughed. "Don't look so glum, Gideon! Look at it this way, I'm actually helping you fulfill your part of our deal! And once it's filled, well! We'll both be happy! I get my Weirdmageddon, and you get to be a general in my world-conquering army, with Shooting Star at your side!"

Yes, thought Gideon, watching as Bill led his prison pals deeper into the forest, leaving him behind. He shoved aside all his niggling doubts and uncertainty. If Bill's plan came to pass, then all of this - his vampirism, and finding himself playing second fiddle to a power-hungry demon - would be worth it.

* * *

The Mystery Shack was even better than Alejandra had imagined it. From the huge letters on the roof proclaiming it to be the MYSTERY HACK, with the S sitting on the lower roof, to the stained-glass windows, to the gift shop, to the fake totem pole, the place just screamed _kitschy_. Lit by the orange light of the setting sun, the whole structure seemed to glow in the twilight. She loved it.

The light was on in the gift shop, and she could see someone moving around inside, so, purpose firmly in mind, she strode up the steps to the door and knocked.

From the other side of the door, she heard a muffled curse, and heavy footsteps approaching. The door opened a crack, and she found herself facing an old man wearing a black suit and a… fez? Interesting fashion choice…

The old man looked her over, and frowned. "We're closed," he said shortly.

She just smiled. "Stanford Pines?"

The man's eyes narrowed. "Who's asking?" he said.

She refused to be put off by his open hostility. "My name's Alejandra Aspen. I'm looking for Dipper Pines. Susan at Greasy's Diner said he might be able to help me with an issue I'm having."

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than the man's expression went completely blank. "Sorry, can't help you," he said, and he would have shut the door in her face if she hadn't slipped her foot in the door jam.

He looked down at her foot, then back at her, scowling dangerously. "You need to move your foot right now," he said.

"I need to speak to Dipper Pines," she said, not moving her foot.

"If you weren't a lady, I'd punch you in the face."

"Well, I'm lucky I have that going for me then."

Whatever the man was about to say next was pre-empted when another man, much younger and more rotund, came in. "Do you want help closing the gift shop, Mr. Pines?" he asked.

"Hey," Alejandra said, waving at the new guy through the crack in the door. "Is Dipper Pines here?"

The old man said, "Don't answer that, Soos," while the other man said, "Yeah, he's just in the other room."

"Soos!" Mr. Pines shouted. Soos clapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide, and Alejandra grinned.

"That's all I needed to know," she said. "It would have been nicer if you just let me talk to him, but since you won't, well, I have a job to do."

With that, she called upon the strength of her tree self and pushed the door open, sending Mr. Pines staggering back. "Excuse me," she said, striding through the door and heading to the room that this Soos had indicated.

Said man was looking at her with open dismay, arms spread to prevent her from passing. "Wait," he pleaded.

At the same time, she heard Mr. Pines say, "Oh, I don't _think_ so," and in the next moment she found herself tackled roughly to the floor.

"Ugh, get off," she said, struggling to push herself to her feet with the old man's weight on her back, but before she knew it, he had her shoulders pinned to the floor and his knee pressing into the small of her back.

"Soos," Mr. Pines shouted, "get Wendy! She can punch this chick in the face for me!"

"Hey!" Alejandra had never been a situation quite like this before, but she was starting to come to the realization that it was spiraling rapidly out of her control.

"Chick or not," Mr. Pines growled, "nobody breaks into my house and tries to hurt my family."

"Look," Alejandra said, trying to be persuasive, but she feared that ship had sailed. "I just need to talk to the kid! I'm not gonna hurt him!" Mr. Pines ignored her, grabbed one of her wrists and wrenched her arm behind her back. "Ow! Knock it off!"

"Need help, Mr. Pines?" a new voice said.

"Wendy!" Mr. Pines said. "Punch her in the face for me!"

Alejandra looked up to see a tall red-headed girl frowning down at her. The girl, Wendy, was wearing green flannel and wielding an axe, of all things. "You have got to be kidding me," she said. "I just want to talk to Dipper Pines!" If she sounded a little desperate, she didn't care at this point. "Why am I pinned to the floor by a Shriners member and being threatened by a lumberjack?"

"Because you forced your way into my house, nimrod," Mr. Pines said, putting more pressure on her arm as she struggled.

This was bad. She was going to have to use her magic soon if she couldn't talk her way out of this, and these humans would get hurt. But before she could even try, a young girl appeared in the open doorway at the back of the gift shop, and, to her astonishment, the wide-eyed girl was holding an infant fawn in her arms.

But that wasn't what astonished her. What left her speechless was the dark, alien curse magic she could see surrounding the fawn like a black miasma. And, faint and transparent in the midst of that miasma, weirdly super-imposed over the fawn… was the soul of a human boy.

He was curled up in a fetal position, eyes closed. The black curse had him completely engulfed, and tethered inescapably to the little fawn body.

 _You will know him by his human spirit_ , Mother had said.

Gasping, she reached for him with her free arm, only to find her hand pinned to the floor by the lumberjack's boot. "No," she said, her gaze fixed on the fawn-that-was-not-a-fawn. "Stop! I'm here to help him! Mother sent me to find that boy! She can break his curse!"

"Wait, what?" Mr. Pines went still, but didn't loosen his grip. "Who are you?"

"You know how to break the curse?" the girl said, stepping forward, her expression open and eager. "How? What do we need to do?"

Finally, she had their attention, and not in a _kill-the-intruder_ kind of way. "I'm Alejandra," she said, and, before she could have second thoughts, she let her human glamour fade, showing her smooth, white aspen bark skin.

"What the hell," Wendy said, startled, but she didn't move her boot.

Alejandra took a deep breath. "I'm a dryad. The Mother of the Wood sent me to Gravity Falls to find a twelve-year-old boy who needed our help. She said I would know him by his human spirit, and…" She struggled with the hand pinned by the lumberjack's boot and pointed at the fawn in the girl's arms. "That's him."

Mr. Pines growled low in his throat. "And how did this mother of yours know about him?"

"I don't know, she… she just knows things! For the longest time she said there was going to be a war between the humans and a one-eyed demon, but then a couple of days ago, she said that.. that the threads of destiny had been changed. And then she sent me here to find that boy so she could help him." Alejandra looked into the eyes of the girl holding the boy/fawn. "Please. She said time was of the essence. I need to take him to her."

"Where is she?" the girl asked.

"Mabel," Mr. Pines said, alarmed. "You can't seriously be thinking of trusting this crazy forest chick."

"Yes, I am," she said firmly. "Grunkle Stan, when the portal was opening, and Dipper was yelling at me to shut it down, I didn't, because my heart told me to trust you. And it was the right thing to do." She met Alejandra's gaze. "Well, right now, my heart is telling me to trust her, the same way it did back then. She can help Dipper. I know it."

There was a long moment of silence as the girl, Mabel, stared, fierce and determined at Mr. Pines.

Then Mr. Pines sighed. It was a defeated sound. "Aw, kid," he said. His voice had lost all its hostility, and Alejandra felt him let go of her arm, and the weight of his knee leave her back. A moment later, Wendy stepped back, letting her hand go free.

Alejandra got to her knees, then stood up. "Thank you," she said, turning to Mr. Pines, who had his arms folded across his chest. He had released her, but he still looked far from happy. "I'm, uh, sorry I made such a mess of things, pushing my way in here uninvited, but in my defense, when it happens in sitcoms, it usually works out."

"Sitcoms," Wendy said, arching an eyebrow at her.

Alejandra smiled sheepishly. "I have a pretty comprehensive DVD collection."

"How does a dryad watch DVDs in the forest?"

"Magic-powered DVD players," she answered.

Wendy stared at her a moment, then shrugged. "Sure," she said. "Why not?"

Mr. Pines went and knelt next to Mabel. "Sweetie… are you sure you want this chick to take Dipper off to see her hippy tree mom?"

Alejandra blinked as the pieces suddenly fell into place. Mabel. And the fawn was Dipper. Mabel and Dipper Pines. The Pines Twins.

"She's not taking him," Mabel said. " _I_ am. She's just going to lead the way."

Alejandra lifted a hand in protest. "Um," she said, and Mabel turned and fixed her with a fierce glare. She swallowed. "…okay?"

Mr. Pines actually smiled. "That's a good plan, kiddo. I'll come too."

"Me too," said Wendy.

Alejandra cleared her throat uneasily. "Now, uh, see… it should be okay with Mabel here coming along, because she's his sister—"

"Twin sister," Mabel interrupted.

"Twin sister," Alejandra continued. "But there's no way I dare bring lumberjack-girl to the grove. You know… axes, tree spirits… not exactly simpatico."

"Right," Mr. Pines said. "Sorry, Wendy, you stay here."

"Aw, man!"

"Uh, Mr. Pines," Soos said, speaking up for the first time since she broke in. "What about Gideon's goons who are after… after you-know-what?" He glanced around nervously. "I mean, Wendy's awesome, but I don't know that we can defend the whole Shack by ourselves. No offense, Wendy."

"None taken," Wendy said, nonchalant.

Mr. Pines looked torn, anxiously looking between Soos and Mabel. Mabel stepped up to him and reached out with the hand not holding Dipper against her side, taking his hand in hers. "It'll be okay, Grunkle Stan. You stay here and guard the Shack. Dipper and I will be fine. I've got my anti-Bill bracelet, my anti-vampire arsenal, and I'll take the grappling hook and the crossbow."

Mr. Pines closed his eyes, his head bowed. "I don't want to lose either of you, kiddo. I… I couldn't bear it."

"You won't, Grunkle Stan. Just wait and see. Her mom will break Dipper's curse."

"Wish I had your faith, pumpkin," he said. He smiled wearily, releasing her hand and ruffling her hair. Mabel giggled.

Then, he turned abruptly and strode right up to Alejandra until he was almost nose to nose with her. She fought the urge to step back, and instead met his stare. "Alright, tree-chick," he said. "If any harm comes to either of my kids, I swear I will find your grove and bring a whole new meaning to _deforestation_. Capiche?"

"No need for threats, Mr. Pines," she said, proud that she kept her voice steady. "I'll keep them safe. I promise. They'll be back before you know it."

Mr. Pines just fixed her with the deadliest glare she had ever experienced, then turned and stomped out of the room.

Alejandra released the breath she didn't know she had been holding, and looked over at Mabel and the cursed boy in her arms.

Mabel grinned at her. "That went well!" she declared.

* * *

TBC

A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I wrote myself into a corner in one scene and I knew the only way to fix is was to rewrite the whole scene from scratch. Took me a while to figure out how to do it in a way that didn't completely suck.

I've outlined this whole story (plus a little bit of a possible sequel). Just fyi, in case anyone was worried that I didn't know where I was going with this.

A huge thank you to everyone who read and faved the last chapter – even bigger thank yous to those who reviewed! I appreciate it so much! :D

If you liked this chapter, please let me know. If you didn't like it, please let me know why. :) I'm always up for constructive criticism.

Feedback is the life-blood of fanfic authors! Give your local fanfic author a transfusion today! (That metaphor worked better in my head….)


	5. Chapter 5

Ain't No Cure for the Cervitaur Blues  
A Gravity Falls Fanfic  
by Krista Perry  
I own nothing.

* * *

Chapter Five:  
 _In Which Mabel Takes Control, Gideon Tries Ignore that Being a Vampire Isn't All It's Cracked Up To Be, and Ford Finds Himself In A Sticky Situation_

* * *

"So," said Mabel, looking up at the green-haired, aspen-bark-skinned dryad who was going to help save her brother. "What are we waiting for, Alejandra? Can I call you Al? Alejandra's kind of a _mouth-full_ , if you know what I mean." She rolled her eyes, grinning, and, had her arms been free instead of full of fawn-Dipper, she would have waggled her sweater sleeves at her.

The dryad looked at her, obviously perplexed. Then she tilted her head and seemed to consider it. "Sure, why not? It will be a nice change of pace. But if I forget and don't answer to Al, you'll have to remind me."

Mabel beamed. "I like you. Okay, Al! Let's take Dipper to see your mom."

Dipper, almost as if recognizing his name, lifted his head and pressed it under her chin, his little wet nose snuffling in her hair. One of his long ears tickled her check, and Mabel tried not to giggle as she adjusted her grip on the fawn. She still couldn't get over how small and light he was, especially since she was used to carrying Waddles around. Dipper weighed practically nothing in comparison to her chubby cutie-pie pig.

Al knelt so that she was eye-level with Mabel, and bit her lip as she looked at Dipper. Mabel couldn't help but notice that the dryad's even, white teeth were marked with wood grain, and her lip seemed hard, and didn't indent like skin would under the pressure of a bite. She seemed entirely made of wood (except for her awesome long green hair, and Mabel had a brief fantasy about dryad hair make-overs) but she moved with a strange, fluid grace.

"This is going to be a little trickier than I thought it would be," Al said. "When Mother sent me here, I assumed I would be bringing back one human boy. Not a human girl and a boy enchanted into the form of a newborn fawn."

Mabel frowned. "I can carry Dipper, if that's what you're worried about. He's not heavy at all."

"It's not that," Al said. "It took me a little over ten hours to hike here from Mother's grove. I wasn't going slow, but I was just, you know, taking my time." She gave a sheepish shrug. "I've never been out this way before, and I was kind of… taking in the sights, I guess. I figured I'd get here, find the kid, and run back with him in less than half the time."

"Run back with him, how?" Mabel asked, scrunching up her nose. Running over rugged forest terrain that took a dryad ten hours to hike, and in half the time? "Even if Dipper was still human, there's no way he'd be able to keep up, and I'm pretty sure I can't either, even after a whole glass of Mabel-juice. Come to think of it, drinking too much Mabel-juice would only slow us down more… I don't suppose there are pit stops on the way to your mom? Hm, I bet she's _waaaaay_ off in the wilderness, where no human has ever set foot, so I'm ruling out restrooms and port-o-potties. Maybe I should bring snacks. You told Wendy you have a magic DVD player. Do you have a magic vending machine too? Does it carry Pitt Cola?"

Al blinked at her for a moment, then shook her head. "Uh… no magic vending machines, sorry. And no pit stops either. As for travelling…" She shrugged again. "Piggy-back?" she said. "That was my plan, anyway. Dryads don't get tired running, the way humans do, even carrying heavy loads. That's not the problem." She frowned as she reached out and gently laid her hand on Dipper's side. His flank shivered under her touch, and she withdrew. "Fawns this young are delicate and easily stressed, and that could make him sick. We need to figure out how to make you both comfortable, and still be able to get back to Mother as soon as possible."

Mabel's mind was racing, and she had already worked most of it out. "Okay," she said. "I can wrap Dipper in a blanket. He can ride in my backpack, and you can carry me piggy-back, and then I'll need-" She broke off as a familiar bauble on the dryad's wrist caught her eye. "Hey, you've got an anti-Bill bracelet too!" she said, delighted that such a magical creature was wearing a fashion accessory that she helped design. "How did you get one?"

Al grinned, lifting her arm to show off the bracelet. "From Lazy Susan at Greasy's Diner," she said. "She was very insistent that I not be susceptible to demonic possession."

Mabel raised an eyebrow. " _Are_ dryads susceptible to demonic possession?"

"Heck if I know," Al said. "It's never really come up as an issue."

"Well, if you are, you're protected now," Mabel said. "So, we've both got anti-Bill bracelets, so he won't be a problem. I can wear a belt for my grappling hook and holy-water super-soaker, in case Gideon tries anything… Can you run carrying a cross-bow?"

Al gave her a bemused look. "I don't think so. Not if I'm holding your legs and your arms are wrapped around my neck."

"Hm, so the crossbow is probably a no-go, then." Mabel's eyes narrowed in thought. "And from what you said, it sounds like you wouldn't have any problems out-running Gideon's human goon squad. How long do you think it will take us to get to your mom, exactly?"

"At a full run?" Al smiled. "Four hours tops."

"That's great!" Mabel said. She looked out the gift shop window, where the last bright sliver of the sun was slipping over the horizon. "That means Dipper can be back to normal by tomorrow!"

Al leaned back on her haunches, frowning slightly. "I'm still worried about your brother. Traveling so fast, and in a backpack… that could spark his fight-or-flight instinct. Even if we made sure he couldn't escape and run off, too much stress could really hurt him before we reach Mother." She gave Mabel a searching, hesitant look. "I... I can communicate with animals. It's a dryad thing, like spirit touching spirit, mind touching mind. If it's okay with you… can I try to see how he's doing?"

Mabel gaped. "You can talk to Dipper?!" she shrieked, and Dipper's ears lowered and pressed back at the loud noise. Sheepishly, Mabel lowered her voice. "Why didn't you say so before? Yes, yes, please! Ask him how he's doing, if he's okay, if there's anything I can do for him—"

"Whoa." Al held up her hands in surrender. "I said I'd _try_. I've never communicated with a human who has been turned into an animal, so I'm not sure if this will work."

"Oh," Mabel said, deflating slightly. "Well, please try anyway." She shifted her grip on Dipper, gently pulling his head from where he'd tucked it against her side, under her hair. She felt him stiffen slightly as she pointed him toward the dryad. "Hey, Dip-dop," she said softly, watching as he sniffed cautiously. "This is Al, and she's going to try to talk to you, okay? So don't be nervous. She's here to help." She knew he didn't understand her, but he did seem to relax slightly as she whispered to him, and his ears perked back up.

Al closed her eyes, her brow creased in concentration. Mabel found herself leaning forward eagerly, watching Dipper closely. The fawn stopped sniffing, blinked, then tilted his head quizzically.

After a moment, Al chuckled and opened her eyes. "He's hungry," she said, and Mabel inhaled sharply.

"Oh my gosh, I forgot," she said in a loud stage whisper, now mindful of Dipper's sensitive ears. "I was just about to feed him when you busted in here! Soos made a bottle and everything!" She looked down at Dipper, who was still blinking at Al. "I'm so sorry, bro-bro, let's get you fed. Follow me, Al," she told the dryad, heading through the open door to the TV room. "You need to tell me what else Dipper is thinking!"

The bottle was right on the t-rex skull where she'd left it. Carefully, she lowered Dipper to the floor, helping him unfold his long, thin legs so that he was standing, and held him steady while he shifted on his hooves for better balance.

This was the first time she had seen him standing, and even with his neck craning up at her so he could see her face, he still barely came up to her waist. She had to bite her lower lip to keep her squeals of glee from escaping her mouth. Dipper was just so freaking tiny and adorable, she couldn't stand it! She'd call for Wendy and have her take a picture if she didn't think Dipper would destroy it at the first opportunity once he was back to normal. This moment would just have to go in her mental scrapbook.

The bottle held about four ounces of the infant fawn formula that Soos had mixed up. He'd told her that Dipper would need to be fed every four hours or so, but if they left immediately when they were done, this might be the only chance she would have to feed him before he was human again, so she was going to enjoy this moment while it lasted.

Al stood in the gift shop doorway, leaning against the door jam, watching with interest as Mabel held the bottle's nipple to Dipper. A drop of milk leaked from the tip, and Dipper sniffed at it before it dropped and splashed on his nose. His little pink tongue licked his nose clean, and then, before Mabel could blink, he latched on and began suckling with enthusiasm.

Mabel found herself surprised when she had to tighten her grip on the bottle, or Dipper would have pulled it right out of her hand. She couldn't help giggling as his little tail swished back and forth as he fed. Augh, so _cute_!

She looked over at Al with her peripheral vision, not wanting to take her eyes off Dipper. "Can you tell what he's thinking now?" she asked.

Al didn't close her eyes this time, but her brow furrowed. "Mostly he's just happy to be eating."

"Mostly?"

Al sighed. "It's… hard to describe. Trying to communicate with him is _mostly_ just like talking to a regular fawn – just pure animal instinct. But there are…" She frowned, looking around the room as if seeking inspiration when words failed her. Her gaze landed on a stack of colored construction paper on the table in the alcove, where Mabel had left her scrapbooking and knitting stuff earlier. Mabel tore her eyes away from Dipper and watched as Al walked over and picked up a sheet of green paper.

"Here," Al said, holding up the paper. "Think of this as Dipper's thoughts. Mostly, it's animal instinct, just kind of flat and green. But then…" She picked up one of Mabel's knitting needles and started poking tiny holes into the paper. When she was done, she held it up to the hanging light fixture. Light shone through the tiny pin-prick holes, reminding Mabel of stars.

"The light shining through these holes," Al said. "They are his human thoughts. They're very small, kind of incoherent, and…" She winced. "And they hurt. They keep appearing and disappearing like bright flashes amidst his deer instinct, but they aren't having very much impact."

Mabel looked down at her brother, who was seconds away from finishing off the bottle. "So… he _is_ in there, somewhere."

Al nodded. "Most definitely. To extend the metaphor a bit…" She held the paper back up to the light. "If these tiny pin-pricks of light are your brother's human thoughts, and the paper is animal instinct, then all the light _behind_ the paper is where the rest of your brother is."

Dipper drank the last of the milk, but didn't want to stop suckling, so Mabel had to force the bottle out of his mouth before he started drinking air. "There," she said, stroking his soft head. "All done."

Dipper plainly disagreed, because he let out a small, irritated bleat. Mabel sucked in her breath and grit her teeth, biting back a squeal. "You're getting back at me by trying to _kill_ me with cuteness, aren't you?" She reached down and picked him up, carefully folding his legs under him so she could cradle him in her arms. "Well, it won't work, because there is _no limit_ to the amount of cuteness I can handle, little bro."

With Dipper settled in her arms again, she looked back at Al. "So," she said. "If all the light behind the paper is Dipper, can you talk to him?"

"I've been trying," Al said. "But the paper is like a barrier. It's trapping him behind all this instinct, but it's protecting him too, because even the little bit of him that's leaking through causes him pain. I don't know why."

Mabel scowled darkly. "It's probably part of the curse," she said. "It just figures that Bill and Gideon would do something so mean." She looked down at Dipper and stroked his velvet-soft ears, wondering just how much pain he was in right now. He pressed his head into her palm, and as sweet as it was, she couldn't help but wonder now if he was only doing it to ease his aching head.

"And speaking of," she said, looking up at the dryad, "let's go break that curse."

Al smiled. "Yes, lets."

* * *

Gideon, sheltered in the shade of the trees less than a stone's throw away from the Shack, waited for the sun to finally dip below the horizon with a strange mix of anticipation and dread.

The anticipation he understood. When the sun went down, he came fully into his vampiric power. Stronger, faster, his senses of sight, hearing and smell magnified far beyond human. His ability to completely disregard gravity was an utter delight.

The dread… he didn't really understand.

Tonight would be his third night as a vampire. The initial rush of being something powerful and inhuman was fading, leaving him with more time to actually think about what he was feeling about the whole situation. Bill had left him behind to sit a spell, guard the Shack and make sure Stan…ley didn't leave while the demon was off hunting the real Stanford. So far, the only interesting occurrence was that a strange green-haired girl had gone into the Shack, but as far as he was concerned, she was just another life for Bill to use as a hostage in exchange for the rift.

So Gideon had a couple of hours with nothing to do except think.

Being a vampire wasn't working out to be all he thought it would be. Yes, the power was sweeter than peach pie, no doubt about that. His new diet was regrettable, but nothing he couldn't live with.

But he had made this deal for the sole purpose to win Mabel's heart, and so far that plan had been as successful as a screen door on a submarine, all because Dipper Pines was too big for his britches.

 _Was_ being the important qualifier.

He grinned, fangs poking over his bottom lip, as he wondered how Dipper was enjoying being a helpless baby deer and dumber than a box of rocks. Bill told him that when Dipper was asleep, he would regain his faculties and remember everything from being awake. The prospect of Dipper knowing he was no more than a powerless, stupid animal was just so delightful, Gideon had daydreamed more than once about being a fly on the wall in Dipper's mindscape just to watch him react. Maybe, once this whole unpleasant rift business was over, Bill would take him into Dipper's mind so he could do a bit of in-person gloating.

Gideon gasped, his eyes glowing briefly, as he felt the sun vanish behind the horizon. And this time he paid careful attention to the difference between his pre- and post-sunset self.

As soon as the light vanished, it was as though darkest shadows of night coalesced around him, seeping into him, filling him with cold power that seemed borne from a void. An antithesis of life. This moment, more than any other, made him hyper-aware of how his heart was still and dead within him.

It wasn't scary. Really, it wasn't.

And if it brought back the sensation of being four years old, cowering in his bed under his blanket, terrified of looking at his closet door _that was at least an inch more open than it was the last time he looked_ … well, that was just downright silly, wasn't it. Because, if anything, _he_ was something that should be feared. He had nothing to be afraid of any more! Eternity stretched before him, full of potential.

And he wouldn't be alone. One way or another, Mabel would be by his side as his vampire queen. And even if she rebuffed him at first, well, he could literally wait forever for her to come around. Immortals had to stick together, after all, since all their mortal relations would return to the dust. When that happened, and she realized that he could understand her the way no one else could, she would come to him, and together they would never have to be lonely ever again.

Granted, he didn't _want_ to have to wait that long for them to be together, but he would if he had to. He still had hope that Mabel would come to recognize and appreciate his affection and devotion much sooner than that.

A light in the attic bedroom of the Shack switched on and, curious, Gideon moved closer, wrapping himself in shadows so that he could remain unseen. He finally got close enough to look inside, but instead of seeing Mabel like he expected, Stanley Pines came to the window. He had a dangerous scowl on his face, and for a moment Gideon wondered if the man could tell he was there.

But Stanley didn't do anything other than glare aimlessly at the grounds surrounding the Shack. Then, to Gideon's surprise, he picked up a large sheet of plywood and placed it over the window, completely blocking Gideon's view. A moment later, Gideon could hear the sound of hammering.

What in the world?

Suddenly he could hear hammering coming from the other side of the Shack as well. Swiftly, he flew around, staying within the tree line, and saw, to his astonishment, that the Corduroy girl and that strange gopher man were boarding up the windows on the main floor.

They were preparing for a siege, he realized. Oh my. Bill was not going to like this, not at _all_.

He was wondering what, if anything, he should do about it, when who should come out the back door of the Shack but the weird green-haired girl and Mabel herself.

He cringed a little as he saw that Mabel had a belt looped around her waist, from which hung her grappling hook and a super-soaker, no doubt filled with that horrid, face-melting holy water. She was holding a backpack filled with none other than Dipper, the stupid baby fawn, his wee little head sticking out of the top.

Gideon couldn't help the throaty, low growl of amusement that escaped him at the sight of his nemesis-brought-low.

Immediately, Dipper began to jerk around inside the backpack, bleating in panic. Well, that was interesting. Apparently Dipper could hear him, or smell him, or something. It was pleasing to know that, even as a dumb animal, Dipper was appropriately terrified of him now.

Mabel lowered the backpack to the old wooden deck, wrapping her arms around the struggling form, whispering to the fawn, obviously hoping to calm him down.

The green-haired girl shook her head. "I was afraid of this," she said. "We'll never get him to Mother if any little thing sparks his fight-or flight instinct." She sighed. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this, but… I can make him sleep. Only if that's okay with you, Mabel. I can wake him up again when we reach Mother."

Mabel looked up at the strange girl, and Gideon could see tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she held on to her thrashing, transformed twin. "Yes, please," she said. "I can't get him to calm down."

Gideon's eyes narrowed as the girl knelt and placed her hand on Dipper's head. The fawn immediately relaxed, eyes closing in sleep, and Mabel sighed, hugging him close. "Hang in there, bro-bro. We're gonna get you turned back to normal before you know it."

Wait, _what?_

Gideon held back a snarl as he turned his attention to the green-haired girl, and for the first time he noticed her pale, wooden skin. He inhaled through his nose, and while he could smell the sweet scent of blood coursing through the veins of Mable and Dipper, the only scents he caught from the girl were of bark and tree sap.

So, she was some kind of forest nymph, was she? And she thought this _Mother_ of hers could undo Dipper's curse?

Not if he had anything to say about it. No _indeed_.

Mabel shrugged on the backpack with a peacefully slumbering Dipper inside. The nymph sat on her haunches. Mabel climbed on her back, piggy-back style, and the nymph straightened, holding on to Mabel's legs. "You ready for this?" she asked Mabel.

"You better believe it," Mabel said, and pointed into the forest. "Onward, to the Mother of the Wood!"

The nymph laughed, and turned slightly. "She's that way."

"Onward!" Mabel exclaimed, pointing the direction the nymph indicated. "To the Mother of the Wood!"

The nymph sprinted with inhuman speed, causing Mabel to whoop in delight, and within moments, they had vanished into the dark forest.

Scowling, Gideon followed silently.

* * *

Ford felt a strange sense of unease from the moment he lifted the hatch and started descending the long ladder into the bowels of the buried spaceship. The familiar cold, stale air smelled faintly reminiscent of the reptile house at the zoo – a scent that had yet to dissipate after millennia underground.

He couldn't seem to shake the low-level feeling of dread – not even during the thrilling plummet-via-magnet gun to the bottom of the ship. It was only as he started searching the endless corridors for parts, and that elusive adhesive, that he realized why he was feeling so unsettled.

This was the first time he had ever been in the ship alone.

When he first discovered the ship, Fiddleford had always accompanied him, helping him scavenge parts for the portal. And when Fiddleford deserted him, it was Bill who went with him, sitting in his mind, providing company and giving instruction.

Well, now that he understood what was bothering him, he could easily dismiss it. During his thirty years traversing dimensions, he had dealt with things, people and places far more horrifying than an ancient abandoned spaceship. And he had done it alone.

Not so easily dismissed, however, were Mabel's words from earlier. And here in the depths of an alien construct with only himself for company, he had plenty of time to ponder them.

(He knew this place like the back of his hand. This corridor to the right would lead him to engineering, where he would find replacements for the burnt-out dimensional displacer connections.)

It was so easy for Mabel to place all the blame on Bill for the disastrous events of the past thirty years. But Ford could not so easily put all the culpability on the demon. He had been so foolish, playing with powers he didn't understand; putting his trust in a being simply because it knew just how to flatter his ego.

And when he finally understood the reality of his situation and Bill's true nature, he knew that they only way to keep anyone else from repeating his mistakes was to destroy the journals. No one else could find out how to build the interdimensional portal. He could not allow Bill to have access to this dimension.

(Dimensional displacer connections found, he put them in his satchel, along with several other pieces of tech that looked promising.)

And… he had tried. He _tried_ to destroy the journals. How many days and nights had he spent, staring at the three books lined up on the portal room floor, flicking his lighter on and off in his hand? How many times had he _almost_ had the will to set fire to those dangerous pages?

(Now for the adhesive, which would be in the destroyed mess of the bio-lab.)

But in the end… he was weak. He couldn't do it. He couldn't destroy the journals. They were the results of a lifetime of hard work. Hard work had been what had pulled him from the mediocrity of Backupsmore University and into the limelight of the scientific community. Hard work had resulted in twelve doctorate degrees and a grant to pursue his dream. Hard work had led him to Gravity Falls and all its amazing mystery. He had spent years researching and documenting the anomalies of this weirdness magnet, and _most_ of it was good. _Most_ of it was safe. _Most_ of it… made him proud.

That was how he justified himself. And instead of destroying the journals like he knew he should, he hid them. One in a hidden chamber near the secret bunker. Another near the elementary school, because what kid would be smart enough to find it, let alone understand what he was looking at?

(He'd always hated searching the bio-lab, because the faint reptilian scent present throughout the rest of the ship was joined with an acrid, citrusy smell that made his eyes sting. The lab seemed to have taken the brunt of the damage from the crash, and everything was crumpled metal, loose cables, dead connections, and scattered, crushed sample containers. But it was also the only place he had ever found the adhesive.)

The first journal. His favorite. His records of Gravity Falls before everything started falling apart. Probably the purest research he had ever done.

He couldn't think of any place good enough to hide it.

And then, after nearly ten years of deliberate avoidance… he thought about Stanley.

And, after nearly ten years of deliberate avoidance… Stanley came when he asked.

Stanley could have refused. He could have ignored the request. But he came, and deep down, Ford knew he would, because that was just… Stanley.

(And there it was, a thin, non-sticky residue, purple and glowing and seeping through the bottom of one of the hexagonal bio-containers – a telltale sign of the adhesive within. He picked it up with a sigh, and carefully placed it into his satchel. Time to head back.)

By the time Stanley arrived, Ford was paranoid and half-mad with sleep deprivation because Bill was not happy with his switch of loyalties and was playing merry hell with any attempt he made at getting rest.

He had tried to explain the situation to Stanley. But he was rambling and incoherent, and _why couldn't Stanley just understand that he needed to take his best journal and get as far away from him as possible?_

But Stanley understood far more than Ford was able to at that moment, because he pulled out his lighter, flicked it open, lit the flame, and held it up to the journal. Stanley could do what Ford couldn't.

Ford had snapped. The rest was history.

Mabel was right. He was the one who had given Bill his first chance, and now his second chance to destroy the world. He and his blasted, stubborn pride.

Yes, Stanley had ruined his science fair project forty years ago. But Ford had succeeded beyond all expectations in spite of that. Or… perhaps _because_ of that.

(Back to the entrance. It was simple to use the magnet gun to pull himself from one platform to another until he reached the ladder. He started climbing.)

Stanley came when he called, even after ten years. Stanley tried to do what Ford, in his madness and pride, couldn't bring himself to do. And when Ford had been sucked through the portal, Stanley had not once considered abandoning him. Stanley, who always hated school, had studied his journals until he was able to repair an interdimensional portal, just to get him back.

Ford didn't understand.

Why? _Why?_

What had he _ever_ done to deserve such unwavering loyalty?

(The hatch opening came into view. The sky was purpling with dusk, and he knew he wouldn't be getting home until well after dark.)

Mabel's words resonated within him.

 _Doesn't that tell you something? Doesn't that mean_ anything _to you? And when he finally does it, do you have one kind word for him?_

No, Ford admitted to himself. Because giving Stanley that kind word he so desperately wanted would be acknowledging just how _wrong_ he had been. About everything.

Wasn't he supposed to be the smart one?

Reaching the top of the hatch, he heaved one arm over the side, only to have his wrist captured in an iron-tight grip. Before he could even gasp, he found himself yanked into the air by his arm, dangling face-to-face with Bill. Or rather, the very strong body he was currently inhabiting.

"Well, well, well, Sixer! Fancy meeting you here!"

Ford reacted instinctively, twisting in the air and reaching with his free hand into the folds of his coat for his disrupter rifle, but he was quickly grabbed, subdued and pinned to the ground by the six other men Bill had with him. Ford found himself flat on his stomach, face in the thick, long grass, with a heavy knee in his back.

"Now, now," Bill chided the men. "Be gentle! Who knows what tricks ol' Sixer has up his sleeves! Hey, why don't we find out? Take his coat and satchel, boys!"

"Let me go, Bill," Ford said, snarling as Bill's lackeys manhandled him, stripping him of his belongings. "You don't think I'd be foolish enough to leave home with the rift on me with you prowling around?"

"But Sixer!" Bill said, bending over to sneer in his face, yellow eyes glinting. "You've been so foolish about so many other things in the past, it couldn't hurt to check!"

Ford found himself once again shoved to the ground, this time with his arms pinned behind his back. He watched helplessly as Bill sat cross-legged on the ground in front of him, took his coat and rummaged through it, humming tunelessly.

"Hm hm hmm, let's see, magnet gun? Boring!" Bill tossed the gun down the open hatch. "Disruptor rifle from Dimension 6-3/a? Talk about outdated!" The rifle followed the magnet gun. Finding nothing else of interest, Bill finally dropped the coat down the hatch as well. "Now, let's see what's in this satchel that is so important, you felt you had to make a trip down there to get it!"

Ford grit his teeth as the first thing Bill pulled out was the hexagonal adhesive container. "Ooh! _I know what this is_ ," Bill said in a sing-song voice. "What could you possibly need _this_ for? Maybe to seal up an interdimensional rift?" Bill looked him directly in the eyes, grinning manically, as he dropped the container down the hole. Ford bit back the urge to curse at him, knowing it would only make Bill laugh.

Bill dumped the rest of the satchel's contents onto the ground and started going through them, looking at each piece of tech with a bored expression before tossing it down the hatch. "What did you think you were going to use all this junk for, Sixer?"

Ford glared and didn't answer.

"Oh, don't tell me!" Bill said. "You were planning on trying to build some kind of tech to turn Pine Tree back to normal! Ha! That's funny!"

"I don't care how humorous you think it is," Ford said, with all the dignity he could manage in his current prone position. "I _will_ find a way to undo the curse you put on Dipper."

Bill shoved the satchel and the rest of his salvage into the hatch. "Well, good luck with that, because the curse was made with a black Orb of Olgathag! I'm sure you've heard of it, what with it being one of the most powerful artifacts across the dimensions!"

Ford had heard of it, and he felt his heart stutter in his chest.

"It's Pine Tree's own fault I had to resort to using an Orb. If he had never invented those stupid bracelets, I could have just used my own power! You might have had a chance then! I could have reversed the curse with a deal." Bill shrugged, that maddening, inhuman grin still stretching his face. "Oh well, it's out of my hands now!"

Ford did curse at him then, and, as expected, Bill just laughed as he got to his feet.

"I think we're done here, boys," Bill said, looking around at Gideon's thugs. "Tie him up nice and tight, and let's get him back to the Shack. I'm sure his brother is anxious to have him back safe and sound!"

Ford felt his eyes widen as it suddenly dawned on him what Bill had planned, and silently berated himself for his lack of foresight. Bill knew that he was prepared to die before giving up the rift… but Stanley?

In spite of all the soul-aching regret Ford had been feeling just minutes before, because of realizing how he had wronged Stanley in so many ways, he felt sudden, wild hope that Stanley was still angry with him for his coldness. He hoped that Stanley was still resentful that he said he was planning to kick him out of his house at the end of summer. He hoped that Stanley _hated_ him for ignoring thirty years of work and sacrifice.

He hoped that Stanley would rather let him die than hand over the rift.

But this was Stanley, and all of Ford's hopes felt hollow.

* * *

AN: Sorry that it's been a month and a half since the last chapter. The offspring and I have been sick with colds, and never at the same time. I've also been dealing with some creativity-crippling anxiety, but I'm doing my best to fight through it. (At least it's not the double-whammy of anxiety and depression, because that _really_ sucks.)

I wasn't planning on ending the chapter here, but since it's already creeping up on 6,000 words, and it's been a while since the last chapter, I figured it would be better to post this now.

Thank you for all the reviews and encouragement. I couldn't do this without your support. Really. Your reviews and likes mean more to me than I can express.


	6. Chapter 6

Ain't No Cure for the Cervitaur Blues  
A Gravity Falls Fanfic  
by Krista Perry  
I own nothing.

* * *

Chapter Six:  
 _In Which Stan Has a Plan, and Mabel and Al Find Big Trouble in Li'l Gideon_

* * *

Stanley Pines grunted with exertion as he carried the last large piece of portal scrap metal up the basement stairs. Soos was waiting at the top, leaning against the vending machine, and practically leaped forward to take his burden.

"Where do you—ugh—want this, Mr. Pines?" Soos asked, heaving the metal out of the way and onto the gift shop floor.

Stan held the small of his back with both hands and straightened, wincing as his spine popped and crackled with the effort. "Back porch door," he said. "Don't barricade it just yet. And when you're done, head down to the basement and use that periscope thingy hooked to the totem pole camera to keep an eye on the outside. Let me know if _anyone_ shows up."

"Yes sir, Mr. Pines. You can count on me." Soos dragged the metal into the other room, leaving deep grooves in the wooden floor.

Any other time, Stan would have been irritated at the damage, but not tonight. Tonight wasn't about making money or cutting costs, or worrying about trivial things like property damage. Tonight was about survival. Tonight was about enemies closing in and threatening to destroy friends and family.

He met Wendy as she came clomping down the stairs from the attic, side-stepping around Soos, who was heading toward the basement. Her face, arms and tank top were covered in dirt and grease. "Well, no one is breaking in up _there_ without running into a world of hurt," she said, grinning. "I set up some serious traps, and anyone who actually manages to break through will get the full Home Alone treatment." Her grin turned downright wicked. "Only a lot less family-friendly."

Stan threw his head back and laughed. "Ha! That's what I like to hear! If it's anything like what you set up in the museum, I'm sure any nimrod who tries to break in will get what's coming to them."

"Did you see what Soos set up at the gift shop entrance?" Wendy said, wiping her greasy hands on the flannel shirt she had tied around her waist. "He's not so much into inflicting the pain, but if anyone gets through the barricade, they'll be running face first into sheets of cling wrap coated with super glue. And then they hit _my_ stuff."

Stan felt his eyes mist up. "I'm so proud of you guys," he said.

Wendy shrugged, as if no big deal, but Stan could see the subtle look of satisfaction on her face. "Eh, it's nice to be able to put some of Dad's survivalist training to real use for once."

Stan nodded, then looked over where large pieces of the dismantled portal were piled next to the back door, waiting to be formed into a barricade. "No sign of Ford yet, I take it," he said gruffly.

"Nope," Wendy said. "I hope he gets back soon, because I gotta admit, having that one door still open while the rest of the Shack is reinforced… it makes me feel like my back is exposed."

"I know what you mean," Stan said. He opened the door and looked out, but beyond the lights of the Shack, there was only the dark forest, the star-studded night sky, and the incessant chirping of crickets. He thought of Mabel and Dipper, off with that weird tree chick to maybe find a cure for Dipper's curse, and he hoped they stayed away long enough to be safe from whatever crap was going to go down tonight. "Didn't Ford say he would be back before dark?"

"Yeah," Wendy said, her voice hesitant. "But… you know how he is. He has a lousy sense of time whenever he gets involved with his research."

Stan's face felt pinched. "Not when it comes to Dipper, he doesn't. He adores that kid. He'd want to get whatever he went after, then get back to his lab as soon as…" He trailed off as he thought he saw something move beyond the tree line, and he squinted, trying to figure out what it was… but a few moments later, a cool night breeze brushed his skin, and he realized it was just branches moving in the wind.

Sighing, he closed the door. Turning to Wendy, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Wendy… I need to ask you to do something for me. I wish I didn't have to, but… well, we need to be prepared in case the worst happens."

Wendy frowned. "The worst?"

"The worst. Let's face it," Stan said, replacing his glasses. "There's a real strong possibility that Ford has gone and gotten himself captured by that demon and Gideon's goons. And if that's the case, then there's no doubt in my mind that they're gonna come here and try to use Ford to blackmail me into handing over the rift."

"Dude," Wendy said, her eyes widening with realization.

"Now, I could be wrong," Stan said, holding up his hands. "I _hope_ I'm wrong and you're right, and that Ford just lost track of time. But if not…" He sagged, his head filling with memories of bookies, mob bosses, and Colombian drug lords. He had been lucky in his dealings with them, in that they only had _him_ to hurt. Too many others were not so fortunate.

"I've seen it a million times," he said softly. "If you have people you care about, that automatically makes you vulnerable to the psychopaths who will do whatever it takes to get what they want. That demon, Bill Cipher? He'll come here with Ford, and threaten to kill him if I don't hand over the rift. And if I refuse, then he'll torture him, nice and slow, until I give in."

Wendy looked pale, her freckles standing out in stark relief against her skin. "But you won't," she said.

"I will," Stan said, looking her directly in the eyes. "I can't just sit here with him out there being..." He trailed off, looked away, and took a deep, shuddering breath. "Look, I'm tough, alright? But not _that_ tough. Not _sit by and listen to my brother get tortured_ tough. So if it comes to that, I need your help."

Wendy hesitated for a long moment, then nodded stiffly. "What do you want me to do?"

Stan smiled grimly. "Follow me," he said, and he led her into his office. He picked up the bullhorn that he used to talk to large tour groups and handed it to her. "You're gonna need this."

Wendy raised an eyebrow as she took it. " _Not_ what I was expecting," she said.

Stan barked a short laugh. "Never give 'em what they're expecting, kiddo," he said.

* * *

By the time Bill and his borrowed flunkies had shoved and dragged him all the way back to his house, Ford felt like one giant bruise. He had lost count of how many times he had stumbled, unable to catch himself with his hands tied behind his back, only to be yanked roughly to his feet as his captors laughed at his latest face-plant. His wrists were cut and swollen from the zip ties. The front of his sweater was a ragged mess. His trousers were torn through at the knees, and he could feel small trails of blood running down his shins.

But all of that was nothing compared to the cramping terror in his gut. Never had he wished for some kind of twin psychic connection with Stanley more than he did now, as he repeated what had become a mantra in his mind during the long hike to the Shack.

 _Don't hand over the rift, Stanley. No matter what Bill does to me, please… don't hand over the rift…_

The night had long since turned full dark. Going from the position of the waxing crescent moon, dropping low in the western sky, and the movement of the constellations, it had been almost a full two and a half hours since sunset. Ford felt alarmed to note that all the lights in the Shack were off. Surely Stanley and the kids hadn't gone to bed, especially knowing what kind of threat they were facing – not just from Bill, but from Gideon's prison buddies who were _not_ kept at bay by the anti-Bill forcefield. The rift was locked away in his private study on the basement's second level, and the door was sturdy and warded, but it could be brought down with sufficient physical force.

Before he could follow that thought all the way to its horrifying conclusion, the huge, thuggish body Bill possessed shoved him down on to his knees. Then, in his usual high, manic voice, magnified well enough to penetrate the Shack's walls, Bill yelled out, "Hey! Stanley Pines! I've got your brother out here, and we need to talk to you! Come on out, Fez!"

Bill's voice was loud enough that Gideon's goons all cringed and covered their ears. Ford, hands still bound, didn't have that luxury, and his head ached from the noise.

Ford didn't know quite what he was expecting. Something along the lines of an interior light flicking on, and then Stan coming out the door in his tank top, striped boxers and slippers.

He did not expect to hear the scratch and squeal sound of a bullhorn being turned on, followed by the sound of Wendy's voice. What on earth was the cashier girl still doing here?

"Ahem," Wendy said, and the bullhorn screeched again. "Ooh, sorry about that. Can I help you?" She sounded, for all the world, like a polite receptionist.

"Hey, Red," Bill said, and Ford looked up at him. If the demon was thrown by this unusual turn of events, he didn't show it. "I didn't know you were still hanging around! Go tell your boss that Bill Cipher needs to talk to him!"

"Oh, no can do," Wendy said, the bullhorn throwing static into her voice. "Stan's not here at the moment. Can I take a message?"

Bill actually blinked his glowing yellow eyes at that, but his ever-present grin didn't falter. "Nice try, Red, but I've had Gideon watching the Shack to make sure ol' Fez didn't leave! Now tell him to get out here before his brother starts suffering some unpleasant consequences!"

There was a silence, almost long enough for Ford to think that Bill had called her bluff, when the bullhorn crackled to life again. "Dude, I don't know anything about Gideon hanging around, but Stan left about an hour ago to go look for Ford. Sorry you missed him."

"That's ridiculous!" Bill said, then turned and shouted at the tree line. "Gideon, come out and tell Red here that she needs to stop messing around, or your prison buddies will be going in there to personally retrieve Stan!"

Ford wasn't sure what surprised him more – the fact that Gideon didn't immediately materialize at Bill's command, or that Wendy's voice came hissing through the bullhorn, like she was sucking in air between her teeth. "Hoo-boy," she said, "I _really_ can't recommend you sending in the goon squad. Aside from the barricades around all the doors and windows, I've got the Shack booby-trapped six ways from Sunday, and I can pretty much guarantee that your boys wouldn't be getting out of the gauntlets _intact_ , if you know what I mean."

Ford watched as Bill's grin dissolved into more of a grimace of clenched teeth. "Gideon! Better get out here, kid, or you and I will be having _words_ later!"

Gideon completely failed to appear, and Ford fought the urge to cringe as genuine fury sparked in Bill's eyes.

"Sorry to hear that your pet vampire bailed on you, man," Wendy said, with obvious false sympathy. "Maybe Stan drove him off with some garlic or holy water. You know, when he _left_."

Bill outright scowled, glowing, slit-pupil-eyes narrowing as he turned to the prison guys. "You," he said, pointing at them. "Start searching for Stan Pines! Don't try to take him down alone! Split into three groups of two, find him, and bring him back here!"

One of the prison guys, a man with a spiked mohawk, cleared his throat and said, "Uh… we don't even know what he looks like."

"Idiots," Bill said, and Ford winced as the demon pulled his head back by the hair. "He looks like this guy, only dumber! Now get out there!" He pointed at the dark forest. The men left slowly, whispering to each other and casting uncertain glances back at the Shack as they left.

Ford sat, stunned at the strange turn of events and the unexpected reprieve.

"Well, Sixer, looks like we'll be hanging out for a bit!" Bill's manic grin was back. "Just like old times, eh? Since we're not going anywhere for a bit, hope you don't mind if I bind up your legs and feet so you don't try to make a run for it!"

Ford glared at Bill silently as the demon pulled out several long zip ties from his front jeans pocket. Carefully, he slowly adjusted his stance so that he was resting on his knees and the balls of his feet. As soon as Bill leaned over to grab him, Ford shifted to one knee, then leaped up and rammed his head directly into Bill's gut.

Bill doubled over, wheezing, and, as soon as Ford regained his balance, he took the opportunity to knee him in the face and drop him to the ground. As Bill lay there on his side, gasping for breath, blood streaming from his nose, Ford planted a solid kick into his kidney for good measure, and watched as Bill's slit pupils thinned almost into nonexistence, his mouth stretched in a terrible rictus grin.

Right, Ford realized. Bill thought pain was hilarious. He wondered how funny _this_ particular pain was to Bill, since the demon seemed to be having difficulty sucking in air.

"It will _never_ be like old times, Bill," Ford said, bringing his foot up and slamming the demon's kidney again with his boot heel. Bill made a feeble attempt to move, wide yellow eyes slightly glazed, and Ford had to wonder just how desperate Bill was to hang on to this body - especially considering it would probably be pissing blood for at least a week.

"You haven't been in my head for thirty years, and I'll never let you in again. You don't know me anymore, and you don't know what I'm capable of. If I thought that killing the body you're in would finish you off, I'd do it right now."

With that, he kicked Bill in the gut one more time; then, without a second thought, he turned and ran for the Shack, hands still bound uselessly behind his back, but breathing a sigh of relief when he crossed the border of the magic barrier.

"Wendy," he shouted. "It's Ford! Let me in!"

"Back porch door," he heard her say, her voice a lot more muffled without the bullhorn. "Less stuff to move out of the way!"

Glancing back, he saw that Bill was already struggling to sit up, narrowed eyes glaring at him, glowing molten gold with rage, and he sprinted around to the back of the Shack and on to the back porch. He wasn't worried about Bill crossing the barrier, but if the demon managed to call back some of the goon squad before he could get in, his goose was cooked.

"I'm here," he said, unwilling to raise his voice too loud. He could hear the creak of wood as heavy things shifted on the other side of the door, and the scrape of metal against metal. "Hurry," he urged, glancing nervously at the darkness beyond the tree line. If anyone came running out of those trees before the door was open, he'd be caught for sure, and this time, Bill wouldn't need Stanley around as an incentive to torture him.

He stood, back to the door, anxiously scanning the tree line for any movement, when the door opened behind him and he felt himself grabbed by the collar of his sweater and yanked inside. Before he could blink, the door slammed shut in front of him, and Wendy and Soos were there, already pushing the barrier back into place.

He almost stepped forward to help, but froze when Wendy said, "Don't move. You don't know where the trip-wires are."

Ford looked at the floor, trying to spot a trip-wire, but the only source of light was a small electric lantern, on the dimmest setting, sitting on the stairs, and he couldn't find one. "This is, ah… quite the set-up here," he said. "You did all this just in the time I was gone?" He took a closer look at the barricade. "Wait a minute… are those pieces of the portal?"

"We worked with what we had, Knucklehead," Stanley said from behind him, and Ford nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning to see his brother looking at him with that ever-present scowl that seemed reserved just for him. The scowl slipped a little as Stanley took in his ragged, bloody appearance. "Whoa, Sixer, you're a mess."

"Stanley?" Ford knew he was gaping like a fish, but he couldn't help it. "You're _here_?"

"Well, yeah," Stanley said. "Obviously."

"But…" He looked over his shoulder at Wendy. She and Soos had their backs pressed to one of the large corner pieces of the portal and were straining to shove it into place in front of the door.

Soos grunted with one last push, then straightened. "I think that did it, dawg," he said, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm. Wendy raised her hand, and Soos gave her a high-five.

Ford turned back to Stanley, realization making its way sluggishly through his stunned brain. "You… you _conned_ Bill."

Stanley shrugged. "Well, technically, _Wendy_ conned Bill. And speaking of…" He grinned at Wendy. "Great job, kid. You did me proud."

"Proud enough to give me a raise?" she said, a smirk in her voice.

"Ha," Stanley said. "I'll think about it. And by think about it, I mean seriously consider it, because that was some first class hoodwinking you did there."

"You'll seriously consider a raise?" Wendy said. "Wow, I _must_ have been good."

"I gotta admit, dude," said Soos. "That was pretty cool. I can't wait to tell Dipper and Mabel about it when they get back."

"Wait, what?" Ford looked at Stanley, only growing more alarmed when his brother let out an irritated groan and covered his eyes with one hand. With rising panic, he turned back to Wendy. "The kids aren't _here_?"

"Whoa, just a sec, dude, don't freak out," Wendy said, sidling around him. "Let's get you out of my little death trap first. Step where I step. Oh, and once you're out, stay at least four feet away from the barricades and the windows. Everywhere else is pretty safe. Mostly."

Ford did his best to swallow his mounting anxiety over the twins' absence as he followed Wendy's instructions. As soon as Wendy indicated he was clear, he turned on Stanley. "Where are they?" he demanded. "Why would you let them _leave_?" He tried to swallow his dread as he imagined Mabel out in the dark forest with Dipper who, as a newborn fawn, probably couldn't even walk very well. And with Bill and his allies out there...

Stanley held up one hand. "Hold your horses, Sixer," he said, and before Ford could protest, he turned to Wendy and Soos. "Both of you, to the basement. Soos, I want you back on periscope duty. Wendy, keep an eye on the surveillance screens in the control room. Let me know if _anyone_ shows up."

"You got it, Mr. Pines," Soos said.

Wendy threw them a casual salute. "Try not to kill each other," she said, before following Soos into the gift shop. Ford could hear their footsteps echoing down the stairway to the lab elevator.

He looked at Stanley, trying very hard not to clench his jaw as he waited for an explanation.

Stanley folded his arms across his chest and didn't meet his gaze. "Long story short," he said. "While you were off being captured by Cipher, some dryad chick showed up saying that the Mother of the Wood had sent her to help Dipper. Mabel went with her to break the curse on the kid."

Ford realized that his mouth had dropped open, and he closed it as he processed Stanley's words. Dryads weren't all that unusual, though he had never seen signs them close to town. And he knew dryads were possessed of certain innate nature magics, but not nearly enough power to break a curse made by a black Orb of Olgathag.

The Mother of the Wood, on the other hand… The formal title stirred an old memory in him, from a time before the portal. He tried to remember completely – he had an eidetic memory that had served him well in procuring twelve PhDs – but, like so many of his memories from that time period, it was muddled and foggy. A direct result of letting Bill inside his head.

"I need my journals," he said, and headed for the door to the basement lab.

Stanley followed close behind. "Hey," he said, "that's all you have to say? You need your journals?"

"The Mother of the Wood," Ford muttered. "I wrote about her in my first journal, I'm sure of it." He had vague impressions of interviewing some of the more sentient supernatural creatures around the Falls, and hearing her name, her title. One title of many, if he remembered right. And, no matter how belligerent or ridiculous the creature, she was always spoken of with a quiet sort of reverence, which was strange in and of itself. But those were the only details he could dredge up from the mess his mind had been back then.

He hurried down the basement steps, then tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the elevator, which was still on the third floor, presumably dropping off Wendy and Soos.

Stanley came down the stairs behind him. "So you've heard of her," he said. "Can she really break Dipper's curse?"

"I don't know," Ford said, watching as the elevator indicator showed the car heading back up. "But I may have recorded details about her in the journals that I… I can't remember." He glanced back at Stanley, wondering if he would laugh at him, especially since his memory had been such a point of pride when they were kids. Stanley had always tried to catch him out, showing him a page of the sports section at breakfast, and then hiding it while Ford rattled off the scores. Ford had never missed any – something that had always both irritated and pleased Stanley.

"My brother," Stanley would say with a wry grin. "The genius with the photographic memory!" And when Ford would inevitably try to correct him, saying there was no such thing, and that it was really an _eidetic_ memory, he would find himself in a headlock, getting noogied, while Stanley shouted, "Photographic memory!"

But Stanley was still wearing that _scowl_. And Ford found that he almost wished Stanley would crack a smile and tease him.

He really needed to apologize. But not now, not when there was a war with Bill going on, and the kids were missing. He would do it later when things were settled. And he would do it right.

The elevator door opened, and he stepped inside. Stanley followed, and the door closed behind him.

"Oh," Ford said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. He hadn't realized that Stanley planned to follow him the whole way, and he was heading to his secret study on the second floor. "I, uh… you don't have to…"

Stanley rolled his eyes. "Oh please. Are you going to your _secret room_?" He emphasized the last two words with air quotes. "I picked the lock on that door less than three days after you were gone."

Ford looked at him, stunned.

"Don't worry, I didn't mess with your machines or your weird Bill shrine. I just looked for the other journals, and when I didn't find them, I never went back in." Stanley scratched the stubble on his chin. "Well, okay, I went back in once, but that was only to make sure I wasn't hallucinating the first time. That room is _creepy_."

Ford stared, grappling with the implication that Stanley had known, from the very start, about his wretched dealings with Bill… and had still worked to save him.

"Oh… okay," he said, finally. "Well, then, let's go." He pressed the second-floor button and the elevator lurched into motion.

Stanley's scowl faded slightly, and one brow raised in surprise. "Wait, you're not going to tell me to stay out of your stuff and try to kick me out?"

Ford noted the "try to," implying that Stanley wouldn't go willingly.

"No," he said.

Stanley's scowl diminished even more. "Well… good. Because I wouldn't let you. Not when the kids are in trouble."

"Of course not," Ford said. The elevator door opened, and he found himself standing before the ornate red and gold door he had made in an astounding bout of hubris. Sighing, trying to focus over all his feelings of regret, he reached for the key in one of his inner coat pockets… and cursed as he remembered that Bill had thrown his coat down the spacecraft shaft.

"What's wrong?" Stanley asked.

"I lost the key," Ford grumbled, then looked at Stanley. "Wait, you picked the lock—"

Before he could even finish, Stanley reached to the door knob, twisted it, and pushed the door open. Ford stared.

"I, uh, may have gone in a third time," Stanley said, looking a little sheepish. "Today. I wanted to see this rift of yours that Bill wants so badly."

" _What_?" Ford rushed into the room, going straight for the small cupboard where he had placed the rift. "Do you have any idea how _dangerous_ —"

He stopped short as he slid open the cupboard door. There was the rift. And, placed carefully over the crack, was a thick, silver strip of duct tape.

"Yeah," Stanley was saying as Ford blinked stupidly at the patched rift. "So, I noticed there was a crack, and I figured that was a bad thing, you know?"

Ford gingerly picked up the rift. The low, buzzing tone that set his teeth on edge and indicated an impending breach… was gone.

"Duct tape?" Ford said.

Stanley shrugged. "I figured if it was good enough for Apollo 13, why not?"

"Why not, indeed?" Ford said quietly, a smile tugging at his lips.

He and Stanley had just been kids when Apollo 13, on a mission to the moon, had an oxygen tank explode. They had both been glued to the living room's tiny black-and-white set, Stanley holding the tinfoil-wrapped rabbit ear antenna _just so_ to make sure they had good reception. CBS anchor Walter Cronkite notified the nation of the disaster, and then kept them updated on the amazing things the astronauts were doing to make it back to Earth alive. When the air system died, the only way to keep the astronauts breathing was to find a way to fit a square filter in a round filter-slot. The astronauts made it work – with plenty of duct tape to maintain the seal.

"Well done, Stanley," Ford said, placing the rift back into the cupboard and closing the door. "Thank you. I was worried that, without the alien adhesive I failed to retrieve, the rift containment would fail, but you seem to have averted that disaster."

Stanley was staring at him, mouth agape, eyes wide. "What did you say?"

"Uh…" Ford thought back on his previous words. They hadn't been _that_ shocking. "Without the alien adhesive—"

"Before that," Stanley said, interrupting.

Ford frowned. "I was worried?" The growing scowl on Stanley's face said he was off again. "Thank you?"

" _That's the one_!" Stanley shouted, pointing at him.

Ford couldn't help his bemused smile at the first genuine hint of happiness that he'd seen on Stanley's face in nearly forty years. "Really? Thank you?"

Stanley clapped him on the shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. " _You're welcome_!"

Ford stared at his brother, uncomprehending his strange burst of gleeful enthusiasm, until a memory suddenly surfaced – a memory of his first day back in this dimension.

 _You really aren't going to thank me, are you._

Oh. _Oh._

He felt incredibly stupid. Was it really that simple? Was it possible that all it would take to repair his relationship with his twin were those two small words? He didn't see how it could possibly fix everything, but maybe it would be a start.

But apparently that start would have to come later, because Stanley had already crossed the room to the book shelf and was pulling out his first and second journals. "Okay," Stanley said, walking back and putting both books on his research desk, side by side. "You said you thought you wrote about this Mother of the Wood in the first journal, but I can tell you, I read that thing a million times, and never read nothing about that. Maybe it's in the second one."

Ford winced at the double negative, but held his tongue. He was astounded at the change in Stanley's demeanor. It was as if, just by saying one small thank you, he had dispelled the aura of anger and resentment that had seemed to shroud his brother ever since he had greeted him with a punch to the face. He wondered what it would be like to sit down with Stanley and actually _talk_ to him, apologize to him for treating him so poorly, and thank him for… well, everything.

But now was not the time. He picked up the first journal and began to flip through it. "That can't be right," he said. "I was _sure_ …" He trailed off as he came to a page that was completely scribbled out with jet black ink. Barely visible between the scribbles, he saw snatches of his handwriting. And on top of the scribbles, as if burned into the page itself, an ashy grey symbol cipher that he recognized as Bill's. "What…" he said, incapable of articulating his horror further.

"Yeah, there are a few pages like that," Stanley said, looking over his shoulder. "All scribbled out, with that stupid demon's code on top. Mostly it's just him saying, 'Ha ha, look what I ruined while using your body.'"

Ford glanced back at Stanley in surprise. "You broke Bill's code?"

Stanley gave him a flat look. "Thirty years," he said. "Of course I broke the code. I kind of had to, since he wrote some of the portal instructions."

"Wait," said Ford, looking back and forth between Stanley and the journal. "Did you break _my_ code?"

"Thirty _years_?" Stanley reminded him, crossing his arms in irritation. "Don't look so surprised, Poindexter. I'm not a _complete_ idiot."

Ford cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Right…. Sorry." He turned his attention back to the journal, his dismay growing as he saw more pages vandalized by Bill. His memory was hazy, but not so hazy that he didn't recognize where his notes on the Mother of the Wood should have been. It was a double page entry, and completely blacked out. Aside from Bill's grey code, the demon had drawn a smirking doodle of himself in the margins. Ford groaned, setting the book down and stepping away, removing his glasses to rub at his face.

"I'm guessing that's it," Stanley said, looking down at the ruined pages.

"Yes," Ford said, grimly. "Unfortunately, that has the only information I gathered on the Mother of the Wood. Now it's lost. Useless."

Stanley snorted. "Whaddya mean, useless?" he said, and Ford was surprised to see him grinning again as he gestured at the journal. "This tells us everything we need to know!"

Ford blinked. "It does?"

"Of course it does." Stanley picked up the journal and held up the destroyed pages for him to see. "Bill seemed to take extra special delight in scribbling these pages out. What reason could he possibly have for not wanting you to have your research on this Mother chick? I can only think of one reason – she poses some kind of threat to him. And if she's enough of a threat to him that he doesn't want you knowing about her…" He trailed off meaningfully.

"… then maybe she is powerful enough to break Dipper's curse," Ford whispered.

It was too much to hope for. This was still a curse created by an Orb of Olgathag – not a power to be taken lightly. But at this point, she might be Dipper's only hope of being human again.

"So," Ford said, replacing his glasses and slumping against his desk. " _That's_ why you let the kids leave."

Stanley nodded. "Exactly."

"So now we wait."

"Ugh. I hate waiting," Stanley said, collapsing into his office chair.

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Stanley," Ford said. "Bill said that Gideon was watching the Shack. But when he called for him, he didn't show."

Stanley sighed. "You're worried that he followed the kids and that tree girl," he said.

"It crossed my mind." It had done more than cross his mind. It had taken the place of honor, first among all the worries that were gnawing at his gut.

"Yeah," Stanley said, and Ford heard the dread and weariness in his brother's voice. "Mine too."

* * *

Within the first five minutes of riding on Al's back as she sprinted through the forest, Mabel came to the conclusion that piggybacking on the dryad was not going to be quite as delightful as she imagined.

For one thing, they were going so fast that the brisk night air had become a cold wind that numbed her cheeks. She found some relief in shielding her face behind Al's long green hair, but that brought its own set of problems, first and foremost keeping the dryad's hair out of her mouth. Bleah.

For another thing, riding on Al's back was like riding a piece of wood. Well, technically, Al _was_ wood, and, living and moving though she might be, she could in no way be considered soft or comfortable. Mabel had a feeling that, when all was said and done, she was going to be more saddle-sore than the time she went to a two-week horseback riding camp when she was ten.

She almost envied Dipper, his tiny fawn body wrapped in a blanket in her backpack as he rested in a magic-induced sleep.

She decided to distract herself from her discomfort with conversation. "Hey Al," she said, her voice slightly muffled from the wind and the flowing hair in her face. "I like the gold tips on your hair. Did you dye it that way, or is it natural?"

The dryad laughed, not sounding in the least bit tired or winded in spite of their pace, and Mabel wondered if she even needed to breathe. But then how would she be able to talk without lungs? Maybe it was just magic. Yeah, that was probably it. Dryad talking magic.

"It's natural," Al replied. "My hair changes color to match the leaves on my tree, and autumn is just around the corner."

"That is so cool," Mabel said, but then she paused. "Wait, does this mean your hair falls out during the winter and grows back during spring?"

Al laughed again. "You know, that would actually make sense? But no, my hair just turns kind of a mousy grey during the winter."

"Oh, that's good," said Mabel. "Not that you couldn't _totally_ pull off a bald look. You have the perfect cheekbones for it." She frowned. "Wait… cheek… you don't have bones, do you. Cheek-wood?"

And so it went for a little while. Mabel found herself completely distracted from her discomfort while chatting with Al. She was just thinking that maybe this four-hour journey wasn't going to be so miserable after all when Al came skidding to an abrupt halt.

"Al?" Mabel asked. Al had half crouched in a recognizably defensive manner, and Mabel looked around, alarmed, wondering what had spooked the dryad. "Al, what's wrong?" she whispered. The forest was dark, but her eyes had adjusted, and she couldn't see anything moving. Just the faint, pale trunks of a birch grove, and their dark foliage blotting out the starry sky.

Al made a soft, anxious sound, taking a few hesitant steps backward.

"Al?" The dryad's fear was contagious, and Mabel felt her heart begin to race.

"These trees," Al said, her voice low and hoarse. "They are all hollow."

"Hollow?" Mabel echoed.

"Empty," Al said. "Dead, but… not. Living, but stripped of life. And so full of _eyes_."

Dead, but not? Wait, did that mean they were standing in a grove of _undead_ trees? Was that even possible? Mabel swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. "What do you mean, full of eyes?" she asked.

"Eyes that look out and see everything," Al whispered. "Eyes that look inward and see only madness."

It was then that Mabel noticed that every single knothole on every single birch tree looked like an eye. And every single eye was staring at them.

She inhaled a shaky breath. "So… that's bad."

Al nodded.

"We should probably leave and go _around_ the grove of creepy eye-filled undead birch trees, right?"

Al nodded again, taking a few more steps backward, before turning completely and sprinting back the way they came.

They came to a stop again in stand of Douglas fir, with nary a birch tree in sight. Al stood, her hands clenched and pressed to her chest.

Mabel gave her a few moments to gather herself. "Are you okay, Al?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Al said, but her voice was thin. "No," she corrected, then sighed. "I _will_ be okay. It's just… I've never felt anything like that before."

"You didn't run across that on your way here?" Mabel asked.

"I… took the scenic route, remember?" Al said, looking sheepishly over her shoulder at Mabel. She faced forward, closing her eyes. "Those poor things. What could have done that to them?"

Mabel frowned. "I have three guesses," she said, "and they all start with Bill."

"The demon," Al said, clutching at the anti-Bill bracelet clasped around her wrist as if with new-found appreciation. "You're probably right." She straightened and adjusted her grip on Mabel's legs wrapped around her waist. "Ready to go again?"

Mabel suddenly felt as though a pair of eyes was staring right at the back of her head. She looked back and saw nothing but the dark forest. Creepy. It was probably nothing. Probably just her imagination getting the best of her after the birch grove. She took a moment to adjust the straps of her backpack and make sure it was secure. Dipper was a small, but comforting weight against her back. She could feel his warmth though the material of the backpack, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

She glanced back again as that _being watched_ feeling refused to dissipate, then shook her head. Imagination or not, she had somewhere to be. "I'm ready," she said, and Al took off running.

Mabel made a few half-hearted attempts to start another conversation with the dryad, but Al still seemed shaken by their encounter with the undead birch grove. She couldn't blame her. She was pretty sure she'd never be able to look at a birch tree the same way again.

Mabel rested her head against Al's soft hair, noticing that, with her head turned to the side, she didn't have nearly as much of a problem with hair getting in her mouth.

She tried distracting herself from her discomfort by listening to the incessant chirping of crickets. Dipper had once told her that you could tell the outside temperature by how fast crickets were chirping, and she had been excited about learning such an amazing skill until she found out it involved math. Math took the fun out of everything.

"Oh, don't be that way, Mabel," Dipper had said. "It's not that hard. You just count how many times a cricket chirps in fifteen seconds, then add 37, and that's the approximate temperature in Fahrenheit. The more chirps, the warmer the temperature."

So Mabel had tried it, and it worked, and _maybe_ , she conceded to Dipper, math _didn't_ take the fun out of everything.

She tried the temperature trick now, but found that it was a lot harder to count cricket chirps and keep track of fifteen seconds at the same time without a stop watch. After several tries, she concluded that the temperature was either 42 degrees, or 67 degrees. That didn't seem right, so, rather than count chirps again, she took the 25-degree difference, divided it in half, added the 12.5 to the 42, and came to the average of 54.5 degrees. It was still probably _way_ wrong, but she thought Dipper might approve of her math-y method of getting her answer.

She resolved to tell him about it as soon as he was human again.

As Al ran on, Mabel started to lose track of a lot more than just fifteen seconds. How long had they been travelling? An hour? Two hours? The soreness in her legs told her that they'd been going for at _least_ a million hours. Ugh, she was never going to be able to sit again. Or stand, for that matter.

Mabel watched how fast the trees went by, and decided they were going at _least_ freeway speeds. Sometimes flashes of night sky, glittering with innumerable brilliant stars, would burst through the tree cover, taking her breath away at the sight. Every now and then, Al would run through a clearing or a meadow, giving Mabel an uninterrupted view of the sky, and it seemed to her that the stars were so bright and close, she could reach up and touch them; so shimmering that she could dip her fingers in the winding, rippling Milky Way and pull them out, covered with stardust.

She was admiring one such view when Al came stumbling to a halt for the second time that night. "What's wrong?" she asked, looking around, hoping they hadn't found themselves in a birch grove again.

"Mabel," Al said, releasing her legs, "you're _bleeding_."

Mabel looked down and, sure enough, below her skirt, the skin on her bare thighs and knees was worn away and trickling blood.

"Oh," she said, removing her arms from around Al's neck and sliding to the ground. She collapsed onto her rear end in an ungraceful heap. "Ow," she said. "Everything hurts."

She wished she was exaggerating but, aside from her legs, her arms, shoulders, back and neck were stiff and sore from being in one position for so long. The weight of her grappling hook and holy water super-soaker hooked to her belt was making her hips hurt. She didn't even know she _had_ hips, but apparently she did, because they were hurting. The straps of her backpack seemed to dig into her shoulders, and she gently slid it off, biting back a moan of pain. Carefully, she pulled the backpack onto her lap and lifted the flap.

Dipper was still sleeping, peaceful and completely oblivious. Mabel smiled. _Dork_ , she thought.

"Why didn't you _say_ something?" Al said, her voice both anxious and scolding.

"I didn't want to slow us down," Mabel said. "I still don't." She reached up, wincing at the ache in muscles she'd never known existed until now, and pulled her sweater over her head, leaving her in just a t-shirt. "I'll use this as padding for my legs for the rest of the trip, but we're not going to worry about Mabel and her owies until _after_ your mother turns Dipper back to normal."

Al frowned in obvious disapproval, but didn't argue.

Mabel grunted as she struggled to her feet. She fumbled with her belt before letting it drop to the ground, then started tying the sleeves of her sweater around her waist. "Hey, Al, since we're stopped for a bit…" She gestured to the backpack. "Do you mind checking on him? See how he's doing? You know…" She tapped the side of her head.

Al sighed, then smiled a little. "Might as well," she said, "though I doubt a sleeping fawn's thoughts will be—"

She broke off, her eyes widening almost comically, even as her gaze seemed to stare off into nothing. " _Dipper_?" she said.

"What?" Mabel said, freezing in shock.

"Dipper, you're… I don't believe it… Mabel, he's right… yes, she's right here... Hold it!" Al held up her hands. "Just give me a second to explain. I can't talk to both of you at the same time." She looked at Mabel. "Dipper is in there," she said, pointing at the fawn in the backpack. "You remember the light-shining-through-the-paper metaphor I showed you back at the Shack? When he's asleep and I try to communicate, it's like I'm on the other side of the paper!"

"Oh my gosh, that's amazing!" Mabel practically squealed. "How is he? Is he okay? What is he doing?"

"He's… just kind of wandering through a forest in his mindscape," Al said, before getting that far-off stare again. "What? But you _are_. Oh, pardon _me_." Her gaze focused on Mabel, a barely concealed smile tugging at her lips. "He is _striding with great purpose_ through a forest in his mindscape." Far-off gaze. "How is that not better? I specifically rephrased so it wouldn't sound like you were aimless and lost." Al focused on her, openly grinning. "Mabel, you never told me how delightfully easy it is to tease your brother."

Mabel laughed, her heart feeling free of a great weight. Dipper was still in there, whole and completely himself, from the sound of it. "That's because people usually find that out for themselves first," she said, smiling so wide, she felt tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "Tell him that we're taking him to your mother to break the curse!"

Al nodded and relayed the message. After a moment, she frowned as if puzzled.

"What?" Mabel asked. "What is he saying?"

Al waved at her to be quiet. "He says he already knows." She stared off into the distance. "A strange, pale man told him. He was wearing—"

Mabel waited for Al to finish. When she didn't and just stared blankly into space, Mabel prompted, "He was wearing?"

"Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, darlin'," said a voice behind her and Mabel turned to find herself facing Gideon, who was floating about four feet off the ground, looking down at her with burning eyes and a mouth full of too-sharp teeth. His usual ridiculous sparkling suit was shrouded in writhing shadows, and for the first time, Mabel looked at Gideon and felt an icy shiver of genuine fear.

She moved, faster than she thought her aching body was capable of, and snatched the backpack holding Dipper off the ground, clutching him to her chest protectively. It was only a moment later, as she felt Al's solid wooden hands grab her upper arms, effectively holding her immobile, that she realized she probably should have grabbed the holy water super-soaker first.

"Y'all just made it so easy for me," Gideon said, floating closer, and Mabel couldn't help but notice the low, demonic echo to his voice that hadn't been there before. "This silly wood sprite, just staring at nothing, it didn't take any effort at all to meet her eyes and snatch her will away. Now she is mine to command."

Well, Mabel thought, at least Gideon's terrifying new visage didn't seem to be stopping him from spouting cheesy B-movie dialogue.

Somehow, she still wasn't prepared when he reached out and grabbed hold of the backpack holding Dipper's still-sleeping form. "No!" she yelled, holding on to the backpack with all her strength as she strained to break free from the dryad's immovable grip. "Don't you dare touch him, Gideon!"

"But Mabel, my buttercup, don't you see? He's only ever stood between us." And with that, Gideon wrenched the backpack out of her grip and threw it carelessly to the side with his inhuman strength. It impacted with the trunk of a tree with sickening crack, and Mabel screamed Dipper's name as the little fawn fell from the pack in a crumpled tangle of limbs, broken and bleeding.

Gideon stared at Dipper, stunned, and for a moment the writhing shadows around him faded. "I… I didn't mean—"

Mabel cut him off with a shriek of grief and fury. "You _monster_!" She thrashed ineffectually against the hypnotized dryad's hold, helpless tears leaking from her eyes. "I'll kill you!"

Gideon turned back at her, and Mabel gasped as she saw ten-year-old li'l Gideon, looking lost and terrified out of his mind. "Mabel," he said, and it was almost a plea, before he closed his eyes and shuddered.

When he opened his eyes, Gideon was gone, and in his place, the grinning, shadowy demon. He glided up to her, close, _too_ close, until she could smell the death coming off him in black waves and he could whisper right in her ear: "Not if I kill you first."

Then he sank his teeth into her neck.

* * *

A/N: Almost there.

Whew. Longest chapter yet. Last week I promised a few people I would post this by the weekend. Well, where I am, it's now Monday morning and the sun is still a couple of hours from rising, so… technically still the weekend? -_-

I hope this is coherent. I stayed up all night finishing this and I've tried to catch any errors, but I do not trust my tired brain. If anyone catches a mistake or something that just doesn't make sense, please let me know, and I will fix it.

A huge, grateful Thank You to everyone who has supported me with likes and reviews. You are the ones who keep me writing. I wish I could give you all hugs. :)


	7. Chapter 7

Ain't No Cure for the Cervitaur Blues  
A Gravity Falls Fanfic  
by Krista Perry  
I own nothing.

* * *

Chapter Seven:  
 _In Which Dipper's Mindscape Makes Him Homesick, He Meets a Man Who is Not Elrond, and He is Forced to Choose Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea_

* * *

Dipper woke, gasping, sitting up in his bed, clutching the front of his shirt as his heart nearly beat out of his chest, and immediately scrambled to his feet, jumping to the floor, getting ready to run. There was a _threat_ , there was _danger_ , he heard that dark laugh, he could _smell death_ …

He blinked. He was in the attic. He turned around in a circle, tensed, breathing hard, eyes searching for a threat that was suddenly not there. "What…" he whispered, confused.

And then, as his adrenaline ebbed slightly, he realized. He hadn't woken up. He had fallen asleep, and he was in his mindscape.

He shook his head, trying to clear it. This was so confusing. One moment, he was a deer. He was with Mabel and… and a woman who could only be a magic forest creature of some kind, if her strange wooden skin and green hair were any indication. They were going somewhere. Mabel had wrapped him in a blanket and put him in her backpack, and how _weird_ was it that he was small enough to fit in her backpack?

Mabel had put on the backpack, and he could feel the solid, comforting warmth of her back through the fabric. He had poked his head out from underneath the flap as they went out the back porch, and then….

… then he had heard that terrible demonic chuckle, had smelled the stench of an unnatural predator, and panic had flooded his simple deer brain. He had thrashed frantically, desperate to get away, to escape, but suddenly Mabel was there trying to hold him still, and the wood woman put her hand on his head and…

And now he was here. Asleep. Standing in the Shack's attic in his mindscape with an out-of-control flight instinct still rushing through him, urging him to run from a threat he was incapable of escaping, since it existed in the waking world.

That magic forest lady had touched his head and put him to sleep against his will, and he suddenly realized he probably couldn't wake up right now even if he wanted to.

And that threat was still out there, and _Mabel_ was still out there, and he didn't have any way to warn her, because she and that forest lady thought he was just a dumb deer having a freak out. Augh! Dipper pulled at his hair in frustration. What was he supposed to do now?

Well, he couldn't just stand around here, that was for sure. He felt jittery with excess energy and the absolute need to be moving. He rushed out the attic bedroom door…

…and found himself in the upstairs hallway of his home in Piedmont.

He was facing the bathroom across the hall from his and Mabel's bedroom. He turned around, only to see the battered open door and attic bedroom of the Shack instead of the regular bedroom that usually occupied that space. Interesting. Did that mean he had come to view the attic as more of his real bedroom than the one at home?

His heartbeat slowed and his breathing came easier as he found himself in the place he had grown up; a place that always meant comfort and safety and family. He hadn't been homesick at all during his stay at Gravity Falls because there were so many mysteries, so many things to discover and explore. But now, as he thought about his current predicament, and realized he might never see his home again - might never see his _parents_ again – he was hit with a wave of homesickness so painful and overwhelming, he felt like throwing up.

And he could hear voices in the house. Familiar voices. Welcome voices. He took a few steps down the hall to the next room – a room that was supposed to be his sometime in the future when his parents decided he and Mabel were too old to share a room. But he opened the door and found the room as he left it - filled with shelves and stacks of old books. Books his mom had never had the heart to part with and put up for sale at The Literate Owl, the second-hand bookstore she owned on Piedmont Avenue.

And there she was, a mere ghost of a memory, wearing mom-jeans and her favorite vintage _Duran Duran World Tour 1987_ t-shirt, her long brown hair piled up in a messy bun stuck through with a knitting needle. She was pulling an old hardback off the shelf and turning to hand it to a younger him, who was probably eight or nine from the look of him.

"Here you go, hon," she said, and Dipper watched his younger self take it reverently.

"The Count of Monte Cristo," his younger self read, then looked up at Mom. "You think I'm ready for this?"

Mom laughed. "You've read Lord of the Rings, and had the _audacity_ to tackle The Silmarillion." She reached down and ruffled his hair. "I think it's safe to say you can handle this, my brilliant boy."

Young Dipper grinned up at her with delight, and Dipper had to close the door against them both, swallowing hard at the lump in his throat and the deep, hollow ache in his chest.

He could hear more voices, more memories, manifesting throughout the house and, for a moment, Dipper considered retreating to the attic bedroom.

But no. Though his pulse was slowing back to normal, he was restless. He didn't want to be stuck in the attic, waiting for who knows how long until he could wake from a magic-induced sleep, just to be a stupid baby animal again.

So he turned the hall corner, and there was the little alcove with a window bench, covered in skeins of multi-colored yarn and bathed in morning sunlight. Mabel sat on the bench, alternately humming and singing a song from some boy band while she knitted something that was probably a sweater for one of her stuffed animals.

"Mabel?" he said, hesitant hope sparking in him.

But she didn't acknowledge him. She just kept swaying in time to the music in her head while she knit.

Dipper frowned. "Mabel?" he tried again, walking closer. He had been able to interact with memory-Stan when they were in _his_ mindscape. Why wasn't this working? He didn't care if this Mabel was just a memory, he _really_ needed to talk to someone. When she still didn't respond, he walked right up next to her and waved his hand in front of her face. "Mabel, come on, please—"

He broke off as his hand passed right through her.

He sighed, feeling his shoulders slump. Great. Even his memories that weren't hiding behind doors were intangible and non-responsive. This just got better and better.

Beyond the alcove were the stairs that led to the main floor, and across the hall from the stairs was his parents' bedroom. He was planning to skip that door and just go downstairs, but to his surprise, the door was already open. Unable to squash his curiosity, he looked inside.

There, inside the room, crouched on either side of the French doors that led to a small balcony, were him and Mabel, eavesdropping on the conversation their parents were having just outside.

Dipper huffed a short laugh. This memory was fresh, from just before the start of summer. Still, it would be interesting to re-live it, knowing what he knew now, so he walked right up to the French doors. The Dipper and Mabel on either side of him were straining to hear Mom and Dad, casting meaningful glances as each other, right through him. Talk about feeling invisible.

Mom and Dad were lounging on deck chairs, watching the sun set.

"I don't know," Mom said, sipping her Diet Coke. "I can see a couple of weeks, or even a month, but… the whole summer? I know Uncle Stanford said he didn't mind, but that seems like a huge imposition."

"Naw," Dad said, waving his hand nonchalantly. "It will be good for all of them. Uncle Stanford's been up there alone since before Uncle Stanley died, and it will be good for the kids to visit him up there for a change. When he visits us, it's just for an afternoon while he's on his way to somewhere else, and the kids barely get to know him."

"But that's not our fault. I know we've made it clear he's welcome to visit for as long as he likes."

"Yeah," Dad said, "but that's not the point. One of my best childhood memories was the two weeks my dad sent me to stay with him. He plays the grumpy old man well, but stick around him long enough and you'll know nothing means more to him than family. I always wanted to go back every summer, but Dad kept me busy with other things."

Mom laughed. "Maybe that's because you came home from your stay claiming you saw Bigfoot."

Dad straightened with mock indignation. "For your information, my dear, I _did_ see Bigfoot."

"Yes, yes," Mom said, grinning. "And the seven dwarves. How could I forget?"

"They weren't dwarves," Dad said. "They were more like living lawn gnomes."

"Because that's _so_ much better." She was openly snickering at him, and Dad grabbed one of the chair pillows and swiped playfully at her. "Hey," she protested, holding up her soda can. "Watch the drink."

"Unbelievers," Dad intoned, "must go _thirsty_." And he grabbed the can away from her. "Hey, it's already empty!"

Past Dipper and Mabel knew what that meant, and were already scrambling to their feet to scurry out the door before they got caught. But Dipper stayed to watch what his past self had only heard while fleeing.

"Get me another one, please?" Mom said, smiling and batting her eyes.

Dad groaned and got to his feet. "You know I hate when you do that."

"Stop jumping to please me when I do it, and I'll stop doing it."

They both laughed. It was an old game, almost like reciting a script at this point, and Dipper found himself blinking back a stinging wetness in his eyes. The homesick ache in his chest was so all-consuming, he didn't even flinch when Dad opened the doors and walked right through him.

Both his parents vanished as the memory ended.

Dipper turned and ran out of his parents' room, unwilling to see what memory might manifest next. He could hear more voices in the house. From downstairs in the sitting room, he could hear his own voice crow in triumph and Dad's answering moan that always followed when he beat him in a game of chess. He could hear Mom and Mabel singing 80's tunes at the tops of their lungs in the laundry room as they folded clothes. And there was Mom telling him _for the last time_ to take out the trash before he lost his video game privileges, and his voice responding, _Fine, I'm doing it, I'm doing it. Sheesh!_

He stood at the top of the stairs and looked down. The front door was just a few feet from the bottom of the stairs. The longer he stood there, the more the memories manifested, until the house was full of voices and images of himself and Mabel and his parents, fading in and out of existence. He needed to get out of here before his homesickness overwhelmed him. But as he started down the steps, Mom and Dad rushed to the door, Dad shrugging on his coat while Mom handed him a thermos of coffee and a leather briefcase. They pecked on the lips, and then Dad was gone as Mom closed the door.

For a moment, Dipper thought she was going to walk away and disappear, but then she looked up at him. "Mason?" she said, and Dipper froze.

"Mom?" he said. His heart was suddenly in his throat. She could see him?

She reached out to him and gave him a tired smile. "Come here, hon."

And at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to run to her and be gathered into the comfort of her arms. "Mom," he said, his voice wobbling unsteadily, and he took a couple of steps down…

…when a much smaller, younger memory of himself ran right through him, rushing down the stairs and into her open arms.

Oh. Of course. Right.

Dipper turned away, trembling hands grasping for the wooden railing and clenching it like a lifeline. And if his face was a little wet, well, what of it?

"Did Daddy and I wake you?" Mom asked.

His younger self nodded. "Where did Daddy go? It's still night time."

"Well," Mom said, and if Dipper closed his eyes, he could almost feel her running her fingers gently through his hair. "Daddy is the orthopedic surgeon on call at the hospital. That means if there's an emergency and someone gets hurt in the middle of the night, he's the one who needs to go help them."

"Oh. I guess that's okay, then."

Mom chuckled. "Yes, it's very much okay. So, is Mabel awake?"

"Nope. She's still sleeping."

"You should join her. You don't need to worry. Everything is fine, and Daddy will be back when he's done."

"But I'm not tired now."

Mom sighed, weary and amused. "Let me guess. You want me to read to you."

"Yes! Yes yes yes!"

Mom laughed. "All right, settle down. Let's go find a good book."

She would read to him until he fell asleep, nestled in the crook of her arm, Dipper knew. And then he would wake up in the morning in his own bed.

Dipper didn't wait until the memory left the room. As soon as they were clear of the door, he ran out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

He stood on the front porch, sucking in deep breaths, wiping surreptitiously at his face and trying to still his shaking hands.

Okay. That… really, really sucked.

And it was _still_ sucking, because right in front of him were Mom and Dad, dressed in their gardening clothes. Mom was trimming the hedges on either side of the stone path that led from the sidewalk to the front porch, and Dad was mowing the front lawn. And as they faded, there _he_ was, no older than five, riding his bike down the sidewalk with no hands and yelling, _Look, Mabel, look!_ She responded with, _Oh yeah? Watch this! No hands_ and _eyes closed!_ Upon which she promptly rode her bike into the mailbox.

As his younger self hurried to his wailing sister's aid, Dipper jumped the hedge and ran down the narrow, tree-lined street, not caring where, as long as it was _away_. Some place where no memory could remind him of what he had lost.

No matter how he looked at it, his life was cut short. He would spend the rest of it living whatever deer lifespan he had. His family would probably take care of him, making sure he wouldn't die prematurely at a hunter's hand, only for him to die at the ripe old age of eighteen or twenty. But even if he was with them, he would never understand them or experience that familial love he longed for, trapped in the limited moment-to-moment awareness of an animal.

Awake, full of slow, simple thoughts and mindless instinct. Asleep, fully aware, haunted and yearning for what he could never have again.

So he ran blindly through his mindscape, faster than humanly possible. And though he tried not to look, he still caught glimpses of places from his past. The Eggbert Elementary playground. The vast Mountain View Cemetery, so much cooler than the park with its monuments and mausoleums; its stone angels and guarding sphinxes that were perfect for twilit games of hide-and-seek with Mabel. Professor's Games and Comics with the weekend DD&MD tournaments. The seemingly endless winding streets of hills and houses and shady walkways that lent themselves so well a pair of twins looking for adventure, real or imaginary. Shepherd's Canyon, that ran almost all the way to…

…the Gravity Falls Water Tower, and suddenly he was out of Piedmont, but this wasn't any better. There was the arcade, and the Northwest Mansion, and the lake, and Greasy's, and, of course, the Shack, all swarming with familiar wraiths of memory. He kept running.

 _No more home_ , he pleaded silently. He felt like there was an empty, aching hole where his heart should be, and he felt the wind drying the tears on his cheeks. _Let me be somewhere else. Anywhere else._

When he finally slowed and came to a stop, Piedmont and Gravity Falls were long gone, and he found himself in a forest where he didn't recognize anything. There were no rising cliffs, no landmarks. Just woods as far as he could see… but there were no pine trees. No conifers at all; just deciduous trees in all their green, broad-leafed glory.

The relief he felt at leaving the painfully familiar behind was almost palpable.

And this place… it was beautiful. Peaceful. Sunlight streamed through the forest canopy, and the air was cool and smelled of damp earth, old leaves, and a sweet hint of distant honeysuckle. He could hear a gurgling stream nearby, and cheerful birdsong, and the hum of insects.

Just being here made the tight, twisting lump of anxiety in his chest loosen slightly.

He walked toward the sound of the stream, and came out into a clearing, at the bottom of a small waterfall cascading over mossy stone and pooling in a small pond before rushing on downhill. The grass near the pond looked soft and inviting, so he went over and sat down, and again felt that knot in his chest loosen. The blades of grass felt like silk between his fingers.

Dipper took a deep, cleansing breath. This… this was okay. He could stay here until he woke up, he decided. It made him feel a little better - his mind couldn't be _completely_ messed up if it could conjure a place like this for him. The natural beauty of the place eased the consuming ache of his loneliness.

He had been sitting a while when a man emerged from the other side of the clearing.

Dipper looked at him, a little surprised, but not alarmed, since this man was obviously a construct of his mind as well. He looked like he had stepped right out of a DD&MD manual, tall and pale, with long black hair that fell past his shoulders. He was wearing ornate robes of swirling blues with silver filigree lining. Floating in an arc above his brow was a crown of seven jewels shining like stars.

As the man stepped forward, Dipper raised an eyebrow at him. "Please tell me that you're Elrond, and that I've somehow created Middle-Earth in my mindscape," he said.

The man tilted his head slightly and smiled a little, but said nothing, so Dipper went on. "Because you're pretty much exactly how I always pictured Elrond from the books. I mean, no offense to Hugo Weaving; he did a great job with the roll in the movies, but sometimes he would get this _look_ on his face, and I'd expect the next words out of his mouth to be, ' _Mis_ ter Anderson,' and that the movie would turn out to be just part of the Matrix. That always kind of threw me off, and… I'm babbling, aren't I?" Not really the first impression he wanted to make with Elrond, but hey, this was _his_ mind, and this man was the first person to look at him and really _see_ him. It was nice to speak to someone who could actually listen, even if he was imaginary.

"I am not Elrond," the man said, and Dipper was impressed with quiet echo in his voice that gave him a distinct aura of non-aggressive power. Nice.

"Oh?" Dipper pulled up some of the grass by his legs and twisted the blades in his fingers. "Who are you, then?" He was mentally going through a list of potential tall, mystic-looking dark-haired characters he knew of, when the man spoke.

"An interested party."

Dipper narrowed his eyes at the indirect answer. "Interested in what?"

"You."

Dipper scrambled to his feet, alarm bells ringing in his head. Okay, maybe this guy _wasn't_ a construct of his mind, and if so… what the heck was he doing here? _How_ was he here? None of his immediate guesses were in the least bit comforting. Was this guy a friend of Bill's? He backed away as the man started walking toward him again, and when the man reached the flowing pond between then, he kept walking, his feet hovering a few inches above the water.

"Okay," Dipper said, wincing as his voice broke on the second syllable. He raised his hands as if trying to ward him off. "You just stop right there. Don't come any closer!"

The man stopped just shy of the bank on Dipper's side of the pond, looking at him calmly.

Surprised, Dipper lowered his hands slightly. "What do you want?" he said, tensing and ready to run at the first sign of threat.

"I came to see if my Lady was correct." The man's smile was as gentle as his voice was quiet, but Dipper didn't dare let his guard down. Too many monsters were all smiles and friendship until they were ready to eat your face off. "She said you are one of mine. I have come to confirm her assertion."

"Wait, what do you mean, one of _yours_?" Dipper didn't like the sound of that at all. "I don't even know you, so… pretty sure, _not_ one of yours."

The man didn't respond except to look at him. Or rather, Dipper realized, look at his _forehead_.

Wait, was this about his birthmark? Almost automatically, he reached up and pulled the brim of his cap down in case his hair wasn't covering it completely, but the man continued to stare as if nothing was in the way.

"Ah," he said. "Ursa Major. Odin's Wain. Butcher's Cleaver. Guidepost." His smile warmed. "You _are_ one of mine." He met Dipper's gaze and raised an eyebrow. "You have wandered far, child. Dare I say, had you not inadvertently twisted the threats of fate, you would have wandered farther still."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Dipper said, probably with more force than necessary, especially since it wasn't exactly true. He looked at the man's floating crown of gleaming stars, thought of his birthmark, and had an absolutely crazy idea of what the man meant. It made him feel sick to his stomach. This was stupid. This was absolutely the last thing he needed right now. "Go away and leave me alone!"

The man gave him a patient look. "Humanity ill-suits you, child. I think you will be well rid of it."

"Okay, nope, no way, I don't think so!" Dipper shouted, backing away and waving his hands. "Whatever crazy thing you think you have planned for me, just forget it! I happen to _like_ my humanity! A lot! So… so back off!"

"You do?" The man's expression turned puzzled. "Unexpected. And yet, at the moment, you are not human."

"That wasn't exactly my decision," Dipper said, nearly snarling. "And it doesn't matter what my body looks like, I'm human right here!" He pointed at his head. "And I plan to stay that way! Besides…" He felt his cheeks heat slightly, and looked down and glared at the grass. "This whole stupid deer thing is only temporary."

"Is it?" the man asked.

"Yes," Dipper insisted, clenching his fists at his sides. "Mable and my grunkles will find a way to break the curse. I know them. They won't stop until it's broken."

"That is true," the man said, and Dipper looked up in surprise. "And yet, should they find the solution, they will not use it, for there is but one way to break the curse. The dream demon used an other-dimensional artifact of immense dark power to change your form. Only death can free you from its influence."

Dipper paled. "… _what_?" That… that couldn't be right. Death? _Only_ death? Sure, he'd had his pity party where he internally moaned about being cursed until he died, but always, underneath that, there had been the spark of hope that his family and friends would be able to save him somehow.

The man's expression softened with sympathy. "Do not despair. At this moment, your twin sister and a dryad are bearing you to the Lady, for she desires to help you."

Dipper looked up, latching on to the man's words. "The Lady? Who is she? Can she really help me?"

"She has many names and many aspects, but in this time and place, she is known as the Mother of the Wood. She is my Lady, and I am her Lord."

Dipper blinked. "Oh." He swallowed hard as he grasped the implications of what the man said. His heart pounded, and he could feel his pulse in his head. He had hoped that he would be able to solve the mysteries of Gravity Falls, but this was so far beyond him, he really wondered if he would throw up. Was it even possible to throw up in the mindscape? If so, he was probably about to find out.

 _Deep breaths. Try not to puke in front of the, uh, sky entity or deity or whatever._

"So," he said, when he managed to push back most of his nausea. "She _can_ help?

" _We_ can," the man said. "You are one of mine, and I would help you also. But we will not force this help upon you. You must choose to accept it."

"Well, of _course_ I want help," Dipper said, confused as to why it would even be an issue. "You think I want to be a stupid deer for the rest of my life?

The man extended his hands, palms upward. "Two paths lie before you in the immediate future, and you must choose one," he said. "Both offer escape."

Dipper nodded eagerly. Two paths. A choice. Right. So far, so good.

"The first path is dying like any other mortal."

Dipper was getting impatient. He already knew one of the paths was death, the man had just told him so earlier. Why would he choose _that_? "And the second path?" he asked.

"Is like unto it," the man said. "For you must still die for the curse to release you. However, the Lady and I can hold your soul before it flees into the infinitude, and remake you, that you may yet live in this world."

Dipper stared at the man, stunned. "Re… re _make_? What does that mean?"

"It means," the man said soberly, "that you would be human no longer. You would become a new creature entirely. This is the choice."

Dipper shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the man's words. "I… but how would…" He didn't even know what to say. His choices were death, or death and being changed into something else entirely? What kind of choice was that?

"What about my life, my memories, my _family_?" he asked. He thought about Mabel, about Mom and Dad, about Great Uncle Ford and Grunkle Stan. The thought of losing them forever had pained him enough that he had run away in his own mindscape. "Would I still have them? Would I still be _me_?" He didn't want to lose himself being _remade_ , any more than he wanted to lose himself as a stupid deer.

The man gave him a long, thoughtful look. "Your soul is strong and bright, child. You are one of mine, yet you cling to this human life with a fierce resolve. It is possible you will keep the memories and experiences from this life, should you choose to accept our aid."

"Possible," Dipper said, his heart sinking. "But not a sure thing?"

"What you carry over would be entirely up to your strength of will," the man said. "You have but a brief time to consider your choice, for your fate approaches you swiftly. I will leave you now, but know that when your choice is made, the Lady and I will be aware, and we will act accordingly."

Before Dipper could even protest, the man faded from view, leaving him alone in the clearing once more.

"Well… okay," Dipper said, waving at the spot where the man used to be. "Great. Nice talk, then. Thanks a lot. I'll just contemplate my apparent _imminent death_ all by myself now."

He felt numb. There was only so much crap a guy could take, after all, before each new surprise just impacted uselessly on the surface.

Dipper turned and walked away from the clearing.

"Welp," he announced to the surrounding forest. "I think it's safe to say that this is the worst day of my life. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was human. Now I'm a cursed, sleeping fawn who is about to die. Why? I don't know! I'm asleep!"

Dipper found that ranting at the forest was not especially helpful. He kept walking.

Here he thought that seeing his memories brought to life sucked, because of the sharp, hollow pain of homesickness they inspired. But that paled in comparison to _this_. One way or another, he was apparently fated to die. He could choose to come back, but as _what_? The man hadn't said, and he had been too overwhelmed to ask. He thought of some of the creatures he'd read about in the journals, and groaned. And to become one of those things, and not even remember ever being human, being _himself_? Death might be better.

But what about Mabel? What would she do? What about Mom and Dad and Grunkle Stan and Great Uncle Ford? He couldn't leave them like this! _Especially_ Mabel. If he died, it would destroy her. He knew, because of the keen spike of terror _he_ felt at the thought of losing _her_. But would it be any better for her if he lived, but didn't remember her?

Dipper suddenly regretted running away from his memories of Piedmont and Gravity Falls. He wanted to see Mabel again. He wanted to see Mom and Dad and his grunkles, even if they were just shades of the past. He wanted to see Wendy and Soos. He wanted to remember them all, and hold on to them with all his might.

 _Home_ , he thought, his walk slowly gaining speed, turning into a run. _I want to go home_.

But then a green-haired woman suddenly appeared in front of him, and he only just managed to stop before plowing into her.

"You!" he said, realizing that he recognized her as the dryad who was with Mabel.

She stared at him, eyes wide. " _Dipper_?" she said.

What in the world was going on _now_? "Yeah?"

She stepped closer to him, reaching out, and he instinctively took a step back. "Dipper, you're… I don't believe it…" Her eyes seemed to glaze over. "Mabel, he's right—"

"You're with Mabel right now?!" Dipper interrupted. "Is she okay? Is she upset? She hasn't gone to sweater town at all, has she?"

She looked at him and her eyes lost that glassy look. "Yes, she's right here… Hold it!" The dryad held up her hands. "Just give me a second to explain. I can't talk to both of you at the same time."

Dipper understood immediately. Somehow, this dryad – the same one who put him to sleep, he noted irritably – had connected with the human part of his mind, while still being in the waking world.

Her eyes lost focus again. "Dipper is in there," she said, pointing at the ground, and Dipper could only guess that this mindscape version of her was mirroring her actions in the real world. "You remember the light-shining-through-the-paper metaphor I showed you back at the Shack? When he's asleep and I try to communicate, it's like I'm on the other side of the paper!"

Okay, she lost him. She had to be talking about something she had done when he was awake and his comprehension skills were practically nil.

She seemed to be listening to something Mabel said, because she replied, "He's… just kind of wandering through a forest in his mindscape."

Dipper felt a little insulted. "Hey, I'm _not_ just wandering."

"What?" she said, focusing on him again. She looked around at his mindscape forest. "But you _are_."

"I am _not_ ," Dipper insisted, folding his arms in irritation. "It's my mindscape. I know exactly where I'm going."

She smirked at him, and he suddenly realized he was being teased, which did nothing to improve his mood. "Oh, pardon _me_ ," she said, before looking off into the waking world. "He is _striding with great purpose_ through a forest in his mindscape."

"Ugh." Dipper put his face in his hands. "That isn't any better."

"How is that not better? I specifically rephrased so it wouldn't sound like you were aimless and lost."

"Look," Dipper said, raising his head. "I don't have time for this."

The dryad grinned. "Mabel, you never told me how delightfully easy it is to tease your brother."

Dipper groaned. Here he was, with the perfect opportunity to communicate with Mabel, even indirectly, and let her know what was going on, and his messenger was wasting time messing around. "You don't understand," he said, straining to keep his temper under control. "I need you to give her an important message!"

But as he spoke, he saw her glazed eyes and realized she was listening to Mabel, not him. After a few moments, she turned her attention back to him, and her smile seemed more genuine, and less irritating. "Mabel wants you to know that we're taking you to Mother to break your curse."

"I already know that!" Dipper said, spreading his arms in exasperation. "Listen, please! You need to tell Mabel that a man came to me here in my mindscape, only he wasn't just a man. He was tall and pale, and he wore a crown of floating stars! He told me that you were taking me to his Lady to help me, but that I would have to die to break the curse, and that I could choose either to stay dead, or let them change me into something else, but if they do change me, I might not remember her!"

The dryad stared at him, a stunned expression on her face.

"What are you waiting for?" He was practically pleading. "Tell her!"

She nodded and waved off to the side, as if hushing Mabel. "He says he already knows. A… strange, pale man told him. He was wearing—"

And then, right before Dipper's eyes, she vanished.

He stepped forward. "Dryad?" he said, but she remained gone. Apparently the connection had been lost.

Well, at least he had given her the message to relay to Mabel, and even if it was a bit incoherent, he hoped that she would get the general gist of it so that she wouldn't be completely blindsided by whatever was coming. That gave him a small measure of comfort. The dryad's connection, irritating though it might have been, was an unexpected gift. Especially when he thought his only contact with any of his family would be with their memory ghosts.

And speaking of, before the dryad showed up, he had been headed back home.

He had only taken a few steps before he was overwhelmed with sudden agony shrieking through his entire body, setting every nerve on fire, and he crumpled to the forest floor, too surprised to scream.

The mindscape around him flickered, and the forest faded to a blank, grey fog. He could taste blood in his mouth, and every breath caused stabbing pain. He couldn't move his arms or his legs and he thought they might be broken.

He had the disorienting sensation of his consciousness flickering awake into blank, terrified fawn instinct, then fading back to human, jolting awake, and fading again, and he was in so much pain his human mind wasn't much more coherent than his small, confused deer brain, and he could barely tell them apart.

The grey fog around him began to darken, and it dawned on him that he was dying.

 _I'm dying. No, Mabel, is she okay, I'm dying. I don't want to die. Mabel! She was just with me a few moments ago and I'm dying, is she okay? I don't see her! Where is she? Mabel!_

 _I don't want to die._

 _Help me. I don't want to die…_

* * *

Almost there… stay on target…

A/N: I know, another evil cliffhanger, but hopefully this chapter will add insight into the previous chapter and what is to come. I think this is the fastest I've posted another chapter of this fic, but that's because I've finally reached the part of the story that was written in my head before everything else.

Another major contributing factor to my increased writing speed is all the lovely reviews and comments. Likes and Kudos make me giddy with happiness. Thank you all for your support. And please, if you feel so inclined, let me know what you think of this chapter. That would totally make my day. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Ain't No Cure for the Cervitaur Blues  
A Gravity Falls Fanfic  
by Krista Perry  
I own nothing.

* * *

Chapter Eight  
 _In Which Al Discovers that Mabel is Crazy, Gideon Fails to Learn His Lesson, Bill Makes Up an Effective Plan C on the Fly, and Dipper Dies but Gets Better._

* * *

In a split instant, Mabel decided that being bitten by a vampire was, without a doubt, _the_ grossest thing she had ever experienced. And that wasn't even taking in to account that the vampire was Gideon. But it _was_ Gideon, and the bite _hurt_ , and his disgusting _mouth_ was on her _neck_ and he was _drinking_ her _blood_.

Dipper's tiny fawn body lay crumpled at the base of a tree less than ten feet away. She could see a smear of red against the tree trunk; could see that at least one of his long, thin legs was bending in a way it shouldn't. She couldn't see if he was breathing.

So she screamed and fought and kicked, but Al's wooden hands, holding her upper arms against her sides, might as well have been steel for all the good it did her. And trying to push Gideon away with her lower arms was completely futile. Not only did it _not_ move him, but he actually chuckled against her throat at her efforts.

She was starting to feel light-headed, enervating weakness flooding through her limbs, and it suddenly came to her with perfect clarity that Dipper's life wasn't the only one in danger of ending tonight. Gideon really intended to kill her and, worse, bring her back like _him_.

"Al," she said, her voice a hoarse croak as she strained to look up and see the dryad's face, but Gideon grabbed her chin and held her still. "Al, please," she said. "Snap out of it! Help me!"

And then she remembered the necklace she was wearing. The necklace with the vial amulet that Dipper had made for her, to protect her against Gideon's vampiric mind control. Without another thought, she reached up, grabbed the necklace chain, and yanked as hard as she could.

The chain held, but then Dipper had bought one strong enough that it couldn't be broken easily, concerned that someone might try to rip it from her neck, like she was trying to do at this moment. Gritting her teeth, she pulled harder, ignoring how the chain cut into her skin. That pain was nothing next to Gideon's bite, and nothing compared to what awaited her if she failed.

Finally, the clasp broke, and she held the necklace in her hand. Desperate, hoping against hope that this would work, Mabel reached up and draped the amulet's chain over Al's arm.

Everything happened so fast. Mabel heard Al groan, as if in pain, and then the dryad released her arms and shoved Gideon away, his teeth ripping Mabel's throat. He went flying and slammed into a tree so hard that Mabel could only think of it as karma after what he'd done to Dipper.

Mabel didn't stay to watch as Al snarled and lifted one hand to point menacingly at the fallen vampire, who was struggling to sit up, holding his head. Instead, she clapped one hand to her neck wound and tried to ignore a swell of dizziness as she staggered to Dipper's side and knelt next to him.

"Dipper," she said. Was he breathing? She couldn't tell. He was so still, and so broken that the sight of him squeezed her heart and filled her with terrifying dread. "No, Dipper, no," she said, her vision blurring with tears as she started to tremble all over. "Don't you dare, please, don't you dare do this…"

A terrible shriek behind her startled her so much she turned in spite of herself, and saw, with almost numb detachment, that Gideon was writhing, staked to the ground, pierced through with a long, narrow wooden spear grown right from Al's forefinger. Gideon continued with his unearthly wailing as he clawed at his chest with both hands. Al looked down at him, stiff with fury, Mabel's necklace clutched tightly in her other hand.

As glad as Mabel was to see Gideon brought low, there was no time for this. "Al," she called, "help me! Dipper is… he's…"

Al looked over at her, and the rage faded from her expression. She grabbed her spear finger and, with a sharp snap that left her wincing, broke it off from her hand. She then rushed to Mabel, leaving Gideon screaming and impaled to the forest floor.

When Al reached them, she looked down at Dipper and said a word that would get Mabel on bathroom cleaning duty for a full week if she said it at home.

"Is he…?" Mabel couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

Al didn't respond except to kneel next to her, close her eyes, and put one hand on Dipper's small, furred head. "Dipper," she said, and Mabel felt her heart leap as she realized that Al was talking to Dipper in his mindscape. But then the look on Al's face brought back that clenching fear again. Whatever she was seeing, it wasn't good.

"Hang in there, Dipper," Al said softly. "Just… hold on. We're almost there. Mother will fix you." She opened her eyes and looked at Mabel. "How's your neck?"

Mabel realized she was still holding one hand against her neck wound. Blood dribbled slowly between her fingers, and she lifted her hand for a moment, before pressing it back. "Not life-threatening," she said. "I can hold on to your back, but Dipper…"

"I'll carry him," Al said. "It will slow us down a bit, but it's better than the alternative."

"Slow us down?" Mabel asked, dismayed. Time was already not on their side.

Al grabbed the fallen backpack, and retrieved the blanket from inside. "I'll have to slow down and be more careful," she said, laying the blanket flat. Mabel found herself holding her breath as Al gently lifted Dipper and placed his small, broken body on the blanket. "I can't afford to stumble with him in my arms."

Mabel understood, but didn't say anything as Al wrapped Dipper in the blanket as carefully as possible, trying hard to not aggravate his injuries, then lifting him to cradle him in her arms. She stayed kneeling, and Mabel took the hint, climbing unsteadily on to the dryad's back and wrapping both arms around her neck and her sore, raw legs around her waist.

Al straightened. "You okay back there?" she asked.

Mabel was pretty sure she was far from okay. She ached everywhere, her leg muscles burned, her throat wound stung, and her head felt like it was full of leaden cotton. She really hoped she didn't lose her grip and fall off when Al was running.

"Yes," she said, thinking of Dipper. "Hurry, let's go."

Gideon was still screaming, the demonic undertone to his voice completely gone, his voice growing hoarse. Mabel didn't have it in her at the moment to care.

Al ran, still faster than human, but not nearly as fast as before. Mabel closed her eyes against a wave of dizziness and nausea, then moaned aloud as she realized that whatever strength she had mustered was failing her. Stupid blood loss. Her legs felt like wet noodles, and she had to clamp her arms around Al's neck to keep from falling when her legs slipped from around the dryad's waist.

Al immediately stopped and knelt, letting Mabel drop to the ground. She collapsed, barely able to hold herself upright, and Al looked at her, her wood-grain face pinched with worry. "Ugh," Al said, "I should have known you weren't well enough to hang on after that… that _monster_. I'm so sorry."

But Mabel was already shooing her away. "Go," she said. "Hurry. Get Dipper to your mom."

"I'm not leaving you, stupid," Al said, and before Mabel could argue, the dryad shifted Dipper's tiny swaddled form to one arm, holding him against her chest, then lifted Mabel with the other, settling her against her hip. "Sit on my arm," she said, "and wrap your arms around my neck."

Mabel did so, too tired to argue, and rested her head against Al's shoulder. She could see Dipper, his little fawn head poking out of the blanket, his eyes closed, so still. She could see a spreading stain of blood seeping through the cloth.

Al began to run, but even slower and more carefully.

Mabel closed her eyes against the frigid wind, listening as the last of Gideon's choking wails faded into the distance. "You didn't kill Gideon," she whispered.

Al snorted. "Not for lack of trying. He twisted just as I stabbed him. I probably got him through a lung."

"Mm," Mabel said, feeling too fuzzy-headed to expound. Gideon was a problem to be dealt with another time. Right now, saving Dipper was all that mattered.

Al kept her steady pace, and Mabel was fighting to stay awake, when the dryad gasped. Mabel looked up at her face and, to her surprise, Al was smiling. "What is it?" Mabel asked.

"Look at the path ahead," Al said, and Mabel realized that the dryad was running faster – maybe even faster than before Gideon's attack.

She looked, squinting against the stinging wind, and saw that there was literally a path forming ahead of them. Shrubs and tree branches leaned away from them to let them pass. Protruding tree roots pulled themselves underground. Foliage and debris crept to the edges, and rocks and pebbles rolled out of the way, leaving a smooth, solid dirt path, completely free of obstacles.

Mabel looked back at Al in awe. "Are you doing that?"

"Are you kidding?" Al said, giddy amazement lighting her expression. "This kind of power is beyond me. It has to be Mother."

"Whoa," Mabel said, and she leaned her head back on Al's shoulder, watching as the forest parted before them to let them through. "Are we almost there, then?"

"With this path? We'll be there in ten minutes max."

Ten minutes. Mabel looked at Dipper. She wanted to reach out and put her hand on his head, feel his warmth, assure herself that he was hanging in there; that he would make it. She wanted Al to touch his mind and let him know they were almost to someone who could help him, but she didn't dare distract Al from running at top speed over this miraculous path.

Mabel worried that the ten minutes would crawl by, but she soon realized they were very close when she started to see faces in the trees as they dashed through the forest. Faces, not unlike Al's, peering out from pine needles and broad green leaves. Faces, hands, legs, flowing hair and pale, silken dresses, emerging from the trunks of trees. The sound of swift, quiet footsteps behind them, joining them in their headlong rush toward Al's mother. Mabel raised her head to look over Al's shoulder and saw that they were leading a veritable entourage of dryads who were giving her curious looks.

And then, suddenly, there was a dryad right next to them, matching Al's breakneck pace step for step. "Alejandra," the dryad said in a low voice. "What are you _doing_? Mother sent you to find a twelve-year-old boy. I might not know as much about humans as you do, but I'm pretty sure _that_ —" She pointed at Mabel. "—is a girl."

"Relax, Dysis." Al said, frowning, her eyes not leaving the trail ahead. "The boy is cursed." She gestured with her chin at the fawn wrapped in the blood-stained blanket.

Dysis gasped when she looked at Dipper. "By the Mother's roots," she said, and from her tone, Mabel guessed it was some kind of dryad swearing. "But then who…" She was looking at Mabel again.

"This is his twin sister," Al said. "She refused to be parted from him."

"Hello," Mabel said, nodding and trying to smile as she clung to Al's neck. "My name's Mabel. Nice to meet you, Dysis. Can I call you Dy?"

Dysis gave her a befuddled look, as if not expecting Mabel to talk to her. But before she could muster an answer, her eyes widened, her gaze going back and forth between her and Dipper. "They are both badly injured!" she said, horrified.

"We were attacked by a vampire," Al said shortly. "I'll tell you the whole story later."

"A vampire!?" Dysis' voice came out a high-pitched squeak, and Mabel could hear a rolling wave of surprised murmurs behind them.

" _Later_ , Dysis," Al said, glowering, and Dysis seemed to finally get the hint.

"Later. Right. I'm holding you to that, Alejandra," Dysis said, before falling back to join the other dryads trailing behind.

"She seems nice," Mabel said hesitantly. The conversation had helped a little in clearing the heavy, foggy feeling in her head.

"She's my grove sister," Al said, heaving a long-suffering sigh. "She can be fun to hang out with sometimes, but other times she's a complete drama queen."

Mabel looked at Dipper's cradled form.

She tried to imagine him as his usual human self at that moment, sitting in the crook of Al's other arm. The long-suffering sigh would be his. " _Siblings_ ," he would say, and he would give her a smile that took any sting out of the teasing. "Am I right?"

"So right," Al would say, and they would all laugh.

She didn't even realize she was crying until Al whispered, "Mabel… are you okay?"

It was a silly question, and Mabel felt too heartsick answer. Instead, she buried her face in Al's shoulder and tried not to shake. What if they were too late? What if Dipper's injuries were too much? What if he had bled out? What if Dipper was lying there unmoving in Al's arm, already… already gone?

She couldn't even bring herself to think the "d" word. It was too terrible, too final.

Al seemed to have the sense not to press her.

After that, it was probably less than a minute, but it seemed like an eternity had passed before Al whispered, "Mabel… we're here."

Mabel raised her head from Al's shoulder to see that the dryad was staring, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, at something behind her. Mabel turned and saw…

She couldn't really process what she was seeing at first. A woman. That was the easy part.

But this woman stood at least ten feet tall. She wore a long, flowing dress that seemed made of interwoven vines, leaves, ferns, moss and wildflowers. Her skin looked strangely mottled, until Mabel realized that she seemed made of all kinds of wood and stone and sand. Speckled, sparkling granite merged into red hues of clay and sandstone which merged into pale, smooth beech wood and dark, rough pine bark, and some parts of her skin were translucent crystal with thin, visible veins of bright lava moving beneath, and there was so much more in her that Mabel couldn't even identify. The woman's mismatched eyes were blue and green gems. And her hair! Her hair was living water, the bright turquoise of a tropical ocean, flowing around her head, held back from her face with a crown of pink coral.

The woman stood before a vast silver-barked tree whose branches and broad, heart-shaped leaves canopied over the forest clearing and seemed to reach endlessly into the sky.

Mabel realized that her mouth was dry, and she licked her lips and swallowed hard. "That's your _mom_?" she whispered to Al.

Al's mouth worked silently for a moment before she seemed to find her voice. "I… I think so?"

Mabel gave her an incredulous look.

Al just shook her head, still staring at the woman. "I've never seen her like this."

The dryads that had followed them, clustering into a group behind them, seemed likewise shocked.

No one seemed to want to step out of the tree line and into the clearing, _especially_ Al, but Mabel wasn't having any of that. "What are you waiting for?" she whispered at Al. "She said she would help Dipper, right?"

Al nodded jerkily. "Right," she said, and, as she took a few hesitant steps toward the woman, Mabel was startled to realize that the dryad was trembling.

The woman waited patiently for Al to approach. She didn't seem angry, so Mabel didn't get why Al was so nervous. When they stopped in front of her, Al looked up into the woman's face. "Mother?" she asked, as if she wasn't sure.

"Yes, daughter," the woman said, and her voice was like a soft breeze through aspen leaves.

"Oh. Good. Sorry, I…" Al seemed to be trying to steady herself. "I brought the boy that you sent me to bring, but he's cursed with strange magic, and… and on the way here we were attacked by a vampire, and he's really hurt and I think he's dying…" When the woman didn't respond except to tilt her head, Al kept going. "This is his twin sister, Mabel. She didn't want to be separated from him. And she's hurt too." Al bowed her head. "I'm so sorry, Mother. You sent me on this mission and I've made a horrible mess of things. Will you please help them? Can you fix this?"

The woman nodded once. "I shall do what I can." Then she reached a hand toward Mabel.

Mabel wanted to say, _No, help Dipper first, he needs it more!_ But the woman touched her neck with her hand before she could protest, and Mabel gasped as she felt the jagged wound heal under the woman's smooth stone fingers. A warmth, like gentle morning sunshine, swept through her, and the aches of her body eased, the heavy weakness that dragged at her limbs vanished, and the fog in her head cleared as if she'd had a couple of glasses of Mabel-juice.

"Whoa!" she said, taking a deep breath. She looked up at the woman, full of hope. "Thank you so much! Now do Dipper, please! He's so hurt, and he needs his curse broken so he can be human again!"

Her hopes took a sudden dive as the woman's serene expression turned to one of pity. Still, she placed her hand on Dipper's small fawn head. It was only for a moment, and then she released him.

"Well?" Mabel asked. She was probably being rude, but she didn't care. "Is he going to be okay?"

The woman turned her mismatched, jeweled gaze back to her. "He is on the brink of death," she said, and this time, the breezy sound of her voice left Mabel chilled. "Even now, his soul strains to escape his broken body. I have prevented him from leaving."

Mabel opened her mouth to thank the woman, but the woman stilled her with a look. "This is not a kindness," the woman said. "Every moment he is trapped in his body is a moment of agony."

"So heal him, like you did me!" Mabel said, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "Please!"

"Do you wish your brother to be freed from his curse?"

"Of course," Mabel said, even as Al jerked slightly. Mabel glanced at her, and saw a guilty, stricken expression on the dryad's face. "What? That's the whole reason you came to get him, right? To bring him here and break the curse?"

"Yes," Al said, looking deeply uncomfortable. "But… right before the vampire attacked, Dipper gave me a message to relay to you. With everything that happened, I…" Dismay tightened her features. "I completely forgot."

"What did he say?" From the look on Al's face, Mabel wasn't completely sure she was prepared to know.

"He… he said a strange man came to him in his mindscape and told him we were bringing him to Mother, but that to break the curse, he had to die." Al shook her head. "And he said something else about choosing to stay dead or be changed… and that's all I remember."

Mabel realized her breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. "I don't understand," she said, her voice rising with panic. "Why did he say he had to die?"

"Death is the only way to release him from the curse that changed his form," the woman said, and Mabel looked up at her, brushing away the tears brimming and falling from her eyes with both hands. "The dream demon cursed him with a powerful, other-dimensional artifact created from the blood of an ancient, dead chaos god. My consort and I, working together, could not undo its power while your brother lives."

"No." The word escaped Mabel as a half-sob.

"Do not weep, child," the woman said, "for your brother was given the choice to embrace his death, or receive my help so that he might yet live in this time and place. He has chosen to live."

Mabel blinked, tears still leaking down her cheeks. "What does that mean?" she said, her voice hoarse.

The woman reached out and took Dipper from the crook of Al's arm. She was so big, and Dipper's fawn body so small, that he fit neatly in the palm of her hand. She gently stroked his furred head with one finger. "This once-human flesh will return to the earth, as is the way with all mortals," she said. "Then my consort and I shall create a new body to house his soul – one that will free his remarkable mind from the limitations of this animal form. We will remake him, and he will be ours."

Mabel didn't like the sound of that at all, and she felt a spark of anger ignite in her heavy heart. "What do you mean, _yours_?" she said. "He's _not_ yours! He's _my_ brother! I didn't bring him all the way here just for you to take him away from me!"

The woman tilted her head as if puzzled. "You would rather he live out his days a prisoner to this curse, with shortened life span, his mind trapped and tortured?"

Well, when she put it _that_ way… "No," Mabel whispered. She looked away, her lips trembling, fresh tears tumbling down her cheeks, and struggled for a few long moments to gather some composure before looking back at the woman.

"You… you said that he chose this? He wants your help?"

"Yes."

Mabel sniffled, and scrubbed her face with her hands. "So… he'll have a new body, but he'll still be _him_ , right? He'll still be Dipper?"

"What memories he will retain from his life in this flesh will be entirely up to his strength of will," the woman said gently.

"Oh," Mabel said. "Well, before you… do all that…" She waved a hand vaguely in Dipper's direction. "Could you give him a message from me?"

The woman nodded.

Mabel took a deep, shuddering breath. "You tell him that… that if he forgets me, I'll make him regret it." She looked at Dipper, the tiny fawn still and lifeless in the woman's hand, and a stubborn glint lit her eyes. "Tell him that if he forgets me, I'm going to tell all our friends back home about his BABBA album collection and that I'll cover his side of the room in rainbow glitter! I'll make a bonfire with his Sibling Brothers books, and let that bratty kid from next door scribble in all his DD&MD manuals! You tell him that he promised not to get _stupid_ , and that it doesn't matter what body he has, we're the Mystery Twins forever!" Mabel looked up at the woman, and was surprised to see a small, amused smile on her face. She thought that maybe she should be embarrassed for her outburst, but she wasn't. She clenched her fists and looked straight into the woman's strange gem eyes. "Will you tell him that for me?"

"I will," the woman said, still smiling.

Mabel huffed and folded her arms across her chest. "Okay then." She heard a strange noise from Al, and looked at her face. Al was staring at her, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. "What?"

Al snapped her mouth shut and just shook her head.

Shrugging, Mabel looked back at the woman and was about to ask her how long this was going to take, but the woman had already turned away from them and was carrying Dipper toward her tree. When she reached the great silver trunk, she turned and lifted her face toward the sky and began to sing.

The words were incomprehensible to Mabel, but the sound reminded her of the time Mom and Dad had taken her and Dipper to a restaurant with fancy china, real silverware, and what Mom called "crystal stemware." All four of them had run their wet fingers around the edges of their glasses to make the crystal sing, and by meticulously adjusting the liquid levels in each of their glasses, they had managed to create a perfect major fourth chord. They had all been thrilled at their accomplishment - the surrounding restaurant patrons less so, and they were asked to leave. Mabel couldn't help but grin when Dad said, "Worth it," to the maître d', but Dipper had hunched over, embarrassed.

Mom had ruffled Dipper's hair on the way out and told him to lighten up. "You would have forgotten all about this dinner in a few weeks," she said. "But now you'll never forget the night the Pines family got kicked out of a restaurant for making the crystal sing." That made Dipper laugh and smile up at her, but now, as she thought about it, Mabel wondered if Dipper might just forget that night after all.

The sound the woman was making was like the singing crystal in the restaurant, only with more simultaneous notes, rising and falling in intricate melodies, all coming from one throat.

And then, to Mabel's surprise, an answering song, deeper, but no less beautiful, and in the same strange language, came from the sky. Mabel looked up and saw stars falling through the canopy of leaves. That was the only way she could think to describe the sight. Far too bright to be fireflies, hundreds, maybe _thousands_ of shining motes of pulsing light fell through the trees to the earth, bringing the crystal song with it. The tiny stars swirled and coalesced until the form of a man appeared – a man just as tall as the woman. He was pale, with long black hair, blue and silver robes, and a crown of seven stars floating above his forehead. He seemed to be giving off his own faint light, chasing any shadows out of the clearing.

He walked toward the woman, looking at Dipper, still lying in the palm of her hand. The woman extended her other hand, and he took it, smiling.

"My lord," the woman said.

"My lady," the man replied, and bent to kiss the back of her hand.

Mabel couldn't help it. She let out a small squeal.

Al jerked, startled. "What?" she whispered.

"Don't you _see_?" Mabel leaned back in Al's crooked arm and whispered in her ear, unwilling to disturb the scene unfolding before her. She grinned in delight and waved one hand toward the two tall figures. "Singing to each other, that guy bowing and kissing your mom's hand like a knight and a princess… He's like the night sky, and she's like the Earth." She clasped her hands in front of her, eyes shining, reveling in the romance of it all. "They are the _perfect couple_!"

The look Al gave her was anything but enthusiastic. "Yeah," she said hollowly. "I guess so."

"What's wrong?" Mabel asked. Al had been acting strange since they had arrived.

"All of this," Al said, gesturing widely. "Mother… looking like that. And now this guy…" She sighed. "I've lived my whole life in this forest, and I'm just now finding out that I really have no idea what's going on." She gave Mabel an incredulous look. "I'm a dryad, and I'm _freaking_ out. How are you taking this so calmly?"

Mabel thought about it. Why _wasn't_ she freaking out? These two strange, beautiful entities before her were about to let her brother die, and then put his soul in a new body.

But then, she had seen Dipper's body possessed by Bill. She had heard her brother's disembodied spirit speak to her as he possessed one of her sock puppets. And how could she forget that day when they swapped bodies?

"Let's just say I've had an interesting summer," Mabel said.

Al gave her an incredulous look. "Interesting enough that _this_ doesn't faze you?"

" _Hoo_ -yeah," Mabel said, looking back at the couple by the tree. She was about to tell Al that she would tell her about it later if she wanted, when the magical star guy reached out to Dipper with his forefinger and touched her brother's head, above his closed eyes and between his long, drooped ears.

There was a spark of light and, to her amazement, a familiar pattern emerged from Dipper's furred forehead and hung before him. Only now the distinctive spots were bright, tiny stars with faint, glowing lines connecting them into the familiar constellation.

"Hey," she whispered to Al without looking away from her brother, feeling a little uneasy. "What's he doing with Dipper's birthmark?"

"You're asking me?" Al said, and her whispered voice was so astonished, Mabel looked at her. Al's eyes were so wide, Mabel thought that if she opened them any wider, they might just fall out of her head. "I don't understand _any_ of this! Except for your brother's weird name," she added. "I get that now."

Mabel looked back at the sound of that strange crystal-song language. The man was holding the palm of his hand toward Dipper, the birthmark hovering just over her brother's forehead. But the man was not so much singing as speaking, the multifaceted tones sounding more commanding than song-like, and as he did this, Dipper's birthmark began to glow brighter and brighter, until it was so bright that Mabel almost couldn't look at it straight-on.

Just as she brought her hand up to shield her eyes from the brightness, the man stopped… and Mabel was startled to realize that now she could hear the crystal song again… only it seemed to be coming from Dipper's birthmark, the tiny, but blinding stars pulsating with each tone. Mabel leaned forward as she listened, her brow creasing in concentration because she could swear that, deep within those crystalline notes, she could hear her brother's voice.

Only Dipper's voice auto-tuned, she amended, because there was no way he could consistently sing on key like that.

Through the vivid brilliance, Mabel could faintly see the man lean forward and whisper something in the woman's ear, but whatever might have been said was lost in the song. The woman looked down at Dipper and smiled. Then, to Mabel's amazement, the man stepped back, bowed, and dissolved into stars before swirling up through the thick tree canopy, leaving the same way he came.

The woman then turned toward Mabel. With Dipper in one hand, she put her other hand over Dipper's body, covering him and his shining birthmark completely, and though that dampened much of the glare, starlight still streamed out between her fingers. She clasped him close to her chest.

"You will see us again soon," the woman said, and she turned to her great tree and stepped into it, the silver bark flowing around and over her like water.

And just like that, the woman and Dipper were gone. The song faded, and the clearing darkened but for a barely visible glow, like a faint aura, surrounding the tree.

Mabel sat in the crook of Al's arm, staring, silent and open-mouthed. She waited long moments for something else to happen, but nothing did.

"So… what now?" she asked, still staring at the tree. "How long do you think this is going to take?" She looked at Al, only to see the same, blank, stunned look on her face that she felt on her own. "Right, sorry," she said. "You have no idea."

Al nodded.

"So… I guess we just wait," Mabel said.

Al lowered Mabel to the forest floor, and Mabel was surprised to find that it was sort of springy under her feet. A closer look showed layers upon layers of leaves carpeting the ground. "Wow," she said, giving a small, experimental jump. "It's like a big bouncy house."

Al sat on the ground with a groan. "That," she said, "was unexpected. All of that," she said, waving her hands around the clearing in a vague gesture, "was unexpected. My mind is so blown I feel like I should be looking around for scattered pieces of brain matter."

"Ew," Mabel said.

"And you!" Al pointed at her. "How can you be so _calm_ about this? Just because you've had an 'interesting summer?'"

Mabel shrugged. "Yep."

Al pointed at the ground next to her. "Sit," she said. "Spill."

Mabel smiled. If they were going to be waiting a while for Dipper to get back with his new body, this seemed like a good idea to pass the time. She plopped herself on the ground next to Al and spread her hands theatrically. "Okay, picture this. First day of summer vacation, and a couple of city kids – that's me and Dipper – get sent to Gravity Falls to stay with our Grunkle Stan. You met Grunkle Stan, he was the old guy who pinned you down at the Mystery Shack when you broke in."

"I remember," Al said wryly.

And beyond Al, Mabel could see the hesitant, curious faces of the dryads who were still lingering at the edges of the tree line. Some of the dryads were even stepping out into the clearing. They were all looking at her, and Mabel grinned. Nothing made a great story even better than an enraptured audience.

"So," Mabel continued, "Grunkle Stan sends Dipper out into the woods to hang up signs to lead tourists to the Shack, and he stumbles across this fake tree with a secret panel, and that secret panel opens up _another_ secret panel in the ground, and inside is this old journal…"

* * *

Gideon didn't know how long he screamed, or how long it had been since he had stopped screaming. All he knew, in his first true moment of clarity since being impaled by that cursed wood sprite, was that he couldn't move, and he was so cold he couldn't feel his extremities.

Another thing he noticed – the black shadows that had surrounded him, filled him with dark power since the sun went down, were gone. And in their absence, he felt naked, vulnerable… almost human again.

Except he wasn't human. His heart lay dead in his chest, somehow unscathed by the sharp wooden spear that still held him to the forest floor. The wood sprite had meant to kill him, of that he was sure. But she had missed, and now here he was, pinned like a bug on display in an insect collection.

Sometime soon, the sun would rise. And though he was in the forest, the tree canopy was sparse here. The sunlight would filter through the leaves and burn him slowly, bit by bit, until he was ashes.

Just as well, he thought bitterly. This whole stupid vampire thing had been a huge fiasco from the start. He had made that initial deal with Bill with the hope of winning Mabel's heart at last, and, well, that had worked out just _splendidly_ , hadn't it.

Worse of all, he had _attacked_ Mabel.

Whenever he had thought of making Mabel his vampire queen, it had always been a fantasy involving candlelight and romantic music… and getting rid of that stupid amulet Dipper had made to protect her from his mesmerism so that she would be _happy_ to be with him forever. He imagined wearing a dashing sequined suit, and Mabel would wear a shimmering rainbow gown. They would dance and laugh… and then he would bring her across to immortality.

He had never in a million years imagined attacking her in the forest and tearing at her throat like a wild animal.

He wanted her to be happy. He'd never meant to hurt her. But those shadows had filled him with such black fury when she had called him a monster and threatened to kill him… he had lost his mind a little. The shadows had been in control then, and that was not acceptable. He was supposed to be a master, not a slave to the dark.

His miserable, lonely reverie was interrupted when he heard a rustling; a shifting coming from a dense thicket of wood not twenty feet from him. With great effort, he rolled his head toward the noise. Even with his night vision making the forest look bright as day, he couldn't see what it was.

Until, finally, he saw two deep, blood red sparks of light peering at him from the deep dark.

He wanted to call out, "Who's there?" but realized he didn't even have the strength to take a breath to form the words. But he didn't have to wonder long, because the rustling increased, and the red eyes glinted. Gideon watched as the thick green foliage around the eyes turned grey, dry and dead before crumbling to the ground. As the thicket died, the creature emerged from its crumbling remains. It was a tangled, jagged mass of dead twigs, branches and grasses; vaguely man-shaped, hunched over, long arms dragging on the ground, with long black thorns adorning its hands and feet like claws. It had a deep gash of a mouth with red, barbed teeth, and the red lights of its eyes floated in the pitch hollow of its spiny head.

If Gideon could have fled before this monstrosity as it shambled toward him, he would have. In all his childish nightmares where his closet door slowly opened during the night, inch by inch, Gideon felt with absolute certainty that _this thing_ had been the monster waiting to creep out as soon as he let his guard down. It inspired visceral, gut-churning terror within him… and he couldn't move.

With each shuffling step it took, it created a spreading patch of death around it, grasses and flowers turning grey and crumbling to dust until finally it stood over him.

"Go… go away," Gideon tried to say, but there was no breath behind the words and they were mouthed silently.

It looked at him, then at the spear sticking from his chest. When it reached for it, Gideon thought for a moment that it would make the spear dry up and flake away like it had with the other plants, but instead, it grabbed the spear and pulled.

Gideon thought he was done screaming, but apparently he had one last good scream in him yet, because it tore out of him as the wooden spear was yanked out of his chest with a wet, sucking sound. He collapsed back to the ground, trembling. Apparently, with the stake gone, he had regained the ability to move.

He tried to sit up, but even with the spear gone, he had no strength. So he watched helplessly as the branchy creature examined the sharp, bloody end of the spear for a moment before opening its mouth.

Gideon watched with a numb horror as a brown, leaf-like tongue emerged between the jagged red-thorn teeth, and licked the blood – _his_ blood – from the spear.

"Oh," he said, and the fact that he could draw painful breath and speak again surprised him. "Oh, that is _disgusting_." The disdain he felt drove back some of his fear, and he managed a weak glare as he sucked in another breath. "Get away from me, you monster."

The creature looked at him with those red-lit eyes floating in the void, and grinned. It lifted a branchy arm and pointed as its mouth with its black thorn claws, then pointed at him. Gideon stared at it. It repeated the motion, tapping its mouth with its claws, then pointing back at him, grinning all the while.

Gideon lifted one hand to his face and touched his mouth. His hand came away wet, sticky, stained with congealing blood.

 _Mabel's_ blood, he realized, and suddenly the horror he felt at the sight of the creature was nothing compared to the horror he felt about himself.

It must have seen the realization on his face, because the creature laughed at him – a dry, scraping groan, like fierce winds pulling up a long-dead tree by its brittle roots. Gideon only knew it was a laugh from the red thorn slash of a grin in its face.

The laugh infuriated him. So this monster thought they were the same?

But then he thought about it. Life-draining, blood-drinking creatures of death. Sure, he was far better looking than this creepy stick monster, but he couldn't deny the similarities.

"Go on," he said to the creature, managing a weak shooing motion. "You made your point, you ugly thing. Now get away from me."

The creature coughed up that horrible sound of a laugh again, before once again licking the end of the stake that had impaled him, like a child would lick a lollypop.

"Get," Gideon said, scowling. "Go on, get out of here." He wondered if the stupid hollow-headed thing was waiting for a thank-you for pulling the stake out. It wouldn't get one.

To his immense relief, the creature turned and shuffled back the way it came, holding up the blood-tipped spear like a trophy. When it finally disappeared from sight, Gideon mustered his strength, rolled on to his side, and finally managed to sit up. A little more effort, and he managed to get on his feet.

He staggered as he walked, but didn't stop. He knew what he had to do. He didn't want to do it, but he did it anyway.

As luck would have it, the first animal he came across was a deer – a young buck - and he figured that Fate was having a big ol' laugh at his expense, because as he bled the poor beast dry and felt his chest wound heal and his strength return, all he could think of was the terrible sound Dipper's tiny, newborn fawn body had made when he had flung him against that tree.

Dipper had to be dead. He couldn't imagine such a small, fragile thing surviving that kind of impact. Revenge complete, hooray, he thought morosely. And now Mabel hated him so much she wanted to kill him herself. At this point, he'd probably let her.

Once his strength returned, so did the shadow, but Gideon held it at bay. He didn't want to draw on its power. Still, he took to the sky and flew as fast as he could manage, back toward the Mystery Shack. Back toward Bill. Back to maybe his only chance of salvaging the complete mess he had made of his life. Death. Whatever.

The closer he got, the more nervous he got. More nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, his Daddy would say. He knew Bill was not going to be happy with him. The demon had told him to stay and watch the Shack and he had disobeyed. It had been for a good reason, sure, but that reason had ended in disaster.

And there it was. The Shack was completely dark, and he remembered that Stan had been in the process of boarding it up and preparing for a siege when he left. For a moment, his hopes rose. Maybe Bill was still out trying to find Stan's twin. Maybe Bill didn't know that he'd left his post. Maybe….

Maybe he was in more trouble than a truffle in a pen full of pigs, because there was Ghost Eyes sitting on a stump outside the Shack, looking madder than a wet hen. Only it wasn't Ghost Eyes in that body at the moment, he knew. And none of his other prison friends were in sight.

Briefly, he considered turning around and flying away. Just running away and never stopping. But he had made not one, but _two_ deals with Bill, and while Bill had filled his end of both bargains, he had yet to make good on his end for either of them. Somehow he got the feeling that there was nowhere far enough to run from a demon if you shirked your end of a deal when the demon had done his part.

But if he was going to confront Bill, now was the time to do it, while he was possessing a human body and his power was limited. So, steeling his courage, he landed in front of Bill.

Bill looked at him, and Gideon was alarmed to see that, not only was Bill _not_ smiling, his yellow eyes were blazing from a bruised, bloodied face.

"Well, well, well! Look who's finally come back!" Clutching his sides in obvious pain, Bill staggered to his feet and loomed over Gideon. "Do you… Have any idea… What you've _cost me_?!"

Gideon shrank back, holding up his hands. "N-now, listen, Bill, I h-had a good reason—"

" _Stan left the Shack_!" Bill shrieked. "And when I came back with Ford, he wasn't here to bargain with! Now Ford is _inside_ the Shack, and Stan is off who knows where, and _I still don't have the rift_!"

"I- I'm sorry!" Gideon said, cringing. "But this wood sprite woman showed up, and then she left with Mabel and Dipper, saying they were taking Dipper to the Mother of the Wood to break his curse!"

To Gideon's surprise, Bill stilled, his yellow eyes narrowing. "The Mother of the Wood?" he said, and Gideon was grateful that Bill had lowered the volume of his voice. His head was ringing. "And you followed them? Did you stop them?"

"I… Y-yes," he said, his stomach suddenly churning. "I accidentally killed Dipper…" Bill's eyes widened, and Gideon giggled weakly. "Guess I don't know my own strength. And I… I attacked Mabel. Hurt her pretty bad, I imagine. But when I was… was doing that, the wood sprite got me through the chest with a wooden stake she made from her own body, and she and Mabel took Dipper's body and escaped."

"So," Bill said, and Gideon didn't like the way Bill's eyes were narrowing at him again. "You saw Pine Tree's human corpse, did you? Because if he were dead, the curse would be broken and he'd be human again. Dead, but human."

"Uh…" Gideon's gaze darted from side to side as he instinctively began to search for a quick exit. "No, he was… he was still a fawn."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Then he's still alive, idiot! And if the dryad was taking the Junior Pines Twins to the –" He put up his fingers in air quotes. "— _Mother of the Wood_ , then she probably healed them up and sent them home once she realized that not even _she_ can break Pine Tree's curse. Which puts us back at square one!"

"Then Mabel's going to be okay?" Gideon asked, relief flooding through him.

"Probably!" Bill said, and to Gideon's unease, the demon had started to smile again. "At least until they get back here! And if I don't have the rift by then, they'll be hostages!"

"How do you plan to get the rift now?" Gideon asked, and flinched as Bill's grin stretched to inhuman proportions.

"Why, you're going to fulfill your part of the bargain, of course!"

Gideon laughed nervously. "Ha ha, of course," he said, and cleared his throat. "Listen, uh, Bill? I've been thinking, and I want to… to cancel our first contract."

Bill's eyes gleamed, but he didn't seem surprised. "Cancel the contract? Oh, no can do, Gideon! I already turned you into a vampire, and you still owe me a favor!"

"So turn me back! I- I made a mistake, and I don't want to be a vampire!"

Bill tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Hm. I suppose I could turn you back… but that would require another deal!"

Gideon trembled, and took a step back. "A-another deal?"

"Sure!" Bill said. "I'll cancel the first deal and you won't be a vampire any more, but in return you owe me another favor!"

Gideon swallowed. Surely another favor was a small price to pay to not be an undead monster any more.

"Deal?" Bill said, grinning wide.

Gideon nodded hesitantly, and stretched out his hand. "Deal," he said.

Bill took his hand and blue fire erupted around the handshake as usual.

Then Gideon felt a tremendous _yank_ , and he found himself floating in the air watching, stunned, as both his body and Ghost Eye's body collapsed to the ground.

A moment later he watched as his own body got to its feet, yellow, slit-pupil eyes glowing, and Bill's unnerving cackle coming from its throat.

Furious and terrified, Gideon yelled at Bill. "Hey! There was nothing in that deal about taking my body!"

"Sure there was!" Bill answered, and Gideon found his over-stretched grin even more unnerving on his own face, especially with the fangs. "I said you won't be a vampire any more, and you're not! You're just a disembodied spirit now! But hey, if it makes you feel any better, consider giving me this vampire-powered body one of the favors you owe me!" And Gideon shrank back as Bill rose into the air and the shadow, blacker than the void, flared with frightening power and wrapped around Bill, encasing him in impenetrable darkness as he laughed and laughed.

A low, pained moan grabbed Gideon's attention, and he looked down to see Ghost Eyes struggling to get to his hands and knees.

"Oh, just what I need!" Bill said as he went to float in front of Ghost Eyes' face. "A big, muscled oaf to do my bidding!"

Ghost Eyes looked up, and Gideon saw the moment that Bill snagged him with his new hypnotic power, because the big man's face with slack.

"Hey, slave!" Bill said. "Go out into the woods and find all your buddies who are out looking for Stan Pines! Tell them that Gideon found him already and is back in charge of the old gang!"

Ghost Eyes painfully staggered to his feet. "Okay, boss," he said, his voice dull and lifeless, and he limped slowly to the tree line.

"Make it convincing!" Bill called after him. "Oh, and don't worry about all those injuries! I'm sure you'll be fine in a few weeks or so!"

"What are you doing, Bill?" Gideon said, trying to ignore the hollow echo in his voice.

"Whoo, this is great!" Bill said, and turned to face Gideon. All Gideon could see amidst the blackness were the glowing eyes and sharp, white teeth. "Robbing people of their free will is a blast! Not quite as fun as manipulating people into making deals to their detriment, but close!"

Gideon clenched his fists, his brows drawing low. "How is this gonna get you any closer to getting that rift?"

"Easy!" Bill said. "Red and Question Mark barricaded the Shack and filled it with traps! There's no way I could convince even your loyal thugs to go in there to get the rift willingly, so I need a lot of disposable people! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a town to enslave!"

"Wait!" Gideon called, floating after him, thinking desperately. "You—you can't! The Pines Twins passed out fliers around town teaching the people how to defend themselves against vampires! Everyone is going to be stocked up on garlic and holy water!"

Bill laughed, high and manic. "You think those things can stop me?"

"Well…" Gideon frowned. "They stopped _me_."

"That's because you're stupid!" Bill said, not even turning to look at him. "You wouldn't know how to use real power if it bit you in the face! You were a vampire for three days, didn't even use two percent of your potential, and still wanted to give it up because it was too much!" Bill finally glanced back at him. "If you want me to show you how a _real_ vampire works, feel free to follow me around! It'll be educational! And maybe if you're good, you can have this body back when I get the rift and start Weirdmageddon!"

The thought of that monstrous inhumanity filling him, tainting his thoughts, filling him with bloodlust… and that _shadow_ … it sickened him. Still, he forced some false cheer into his voice. "Well, if you can show me how to use that power right, I suppose I… I might want it back."

Bill laughed again, and Gideon followed fearfully, wondering if there was any way possible for his ghostly self to make contact with the folks in Gravity Falls and warn them what was coming.

* * *

Stan looked at the security camera monitor in the control room, watching as the vampiric void that was now Bill's body flew off screen. The demon was still talking, presumably to Gideon's disembodied spirit. Ford stood next to him, pale and grim. Wendy and Soos were on either side, and they all watched and listened with growing dread. They had witnessed nearly the entire encounter, since Soos had hurried to retrieve him and Ford as soon as Gideon showed up.

"So this is bad," said Stan, when Bill's voice could no longer be heard over the monitor.

"He's going after the townsfolk," Soos said, voice high with panic. "My abuelita is a townsfolk!"

"So are my friends, my dad and my brothers," said Wendy.

"And he's going to throw every single person he can hypnotize at the Shack to get the rift," Ford said. "He plans to overwhelm us through sheer numbers."

Stan nodded and rubbed absently at his chest. He thought he'd been on the verge of a genuine heart attack when Gideon had so casually said that he'd accidentally killed Dipper, and Ford had turned stark white and swayed on his feet. How ironic that it was Bill who reassured them that the kid was still alive. Still cursed, apparently, but alive. Still out there, still with Mabel. Still possibly coming home, right into Bill's hands to be used against them.

"So, Poindexter," he said wearily. "I don't suppose you have a plan?"

"I've got to undo all the traps," Wendy said. "I don't mind inflicting hurt on escaped prison goons, but I'm not gonna hurt my family."

"Understandable," Ford said. He paced back and forth for a moment, deep in thought. Then he stopped. "I think our best bet is to place all the barricades around the basement door and create a choke point. Bill no doubt suspects that the rift is somewhere in the basement, so that's where we should focus our defense. He can get all the people in town, but it won't do him any good if they can only fit through the door one at a time."

"Dude," Soos said. "It's like that movie, 300, with the Spartans versus the Persians!"

Ford gave Soos a peculiar look. "It was an actual historical event, but, yes, essentially."

"Didn't all the Spartans die?" Wendy asked dryly.

"I am totally going to yell 'This is _Sparta_ ' at anyone who makes it through," Soos said, practically bouncing in excitement.

"Do that and you're fired," Stan said, as Ford simultaneously said, "Good heavens, please don't."

Stan sighed heavily, and straightened. "Okay," he said. "We've got a plan. Let's make it happen, guys."

* * *

Dipper had lost track of how long he'd been in unbearable pain. His mindscape was completely dark, and he could feel that his body was failing; that he was close to death. Every fiber of his being screamed that he needed to flee, to leave this husk of flesh and blood that was far too damaged to continue holding him.

But he didn't want to die. And the man who wasn't Elrond had said he would have the choice to live. Not as a human. As something else. And perhaps he would forget his human life, but he was determined to _not_ forget. What was the point of continuing to live in this place and time after his time was up, if it wasn't to still be with his family?

So he held on as best he could and waited for the help that was promised.

And then, through the pain, he heard… music.

A strange singing of many voices, but the voices sounded like… like nothing he had ever heard before. Maybe like wind chimes. And suddenly, as he realized the pain was fading, he could see the night sky in all its brilliance, all around him as though he were floating in space. The Milky Way stretched around him, vast and wide, like a bright, never-ending path that seemed to ripple and move like a river; and he could see swirling galaxies, and great nebulas where stars were being born even as he watched, so _many_ stars, and somehow he could see them _all,_ going on forever, and all the stars were blinding bright, pulsing… chiming?

That singing was coming from the stars?

The more he looked, the more he listened, the more he came to realize that this was _familiar_. He… he _knew_ this song. How? It seemed to him that the answer was before him, just out of reach, and all he had to do was open his mouth and join in…

… and so he did. And as his voice mingled with the others, he suddenly felt torn, as if the very fabric of his soul was being pulled in different directions.

He had sung this song before, he realized. And he had chosen to leave it behind.

" _You can't leave it behind_ ," a voice said, and he recognized it as not-Elrond. " _Not this time, child. Not if you want to stay on Earth in this time and place. You do not have to be with us, but you will always be part of us._ "

 _Oh_ , Dipper thought, and a very distant part of him was alarmed at this information. _Then I'll still hear the song in my new form?_

" _Yes._ _You can also_ sing _the song_ ," not-Elrond said. " _But doing so will pull you away from the life you have chosen, so only sing when you are finally ready to return to us_."

Dipper wanted to ask what that meant, but before he could, the sky around him vanished and the song ceased.

Now he was floating in a grey fog. No matter where he turned, or which way he looked, there was nothing but grey fog as far as he could see.

Then _she_ emerged from the fog and stood, towering over him. He looked up at her in awe, for he could see the _whole world_ in her. He didn't know how else to describe it.

She had her hands cupped together, close to her chest. She lowered them, holding them before him, and lifted one hand to show him a tiny newborn fawn, broken and bloodied.

"Is… is that _me_?" he said.

"It was," she said, and her voice filled his mind like sunlight. "This body is dead now, and must return to the earth." As she spoke, Dipper watched as the little empty shell turned to dust in her hands and drifted away.

He swallowed. That was certainly _final_. "So…" Dipper looked up at her face, his chest squeezing with sudden apprehension. "You're going to make me a new body?"

"Yes."

"But not a human body."

"Humans make humans," she said, smiling.

"Oh. Okay," he said, because _obviously_ she wasn't human. He felt anxious, nervous, and rubbed at his arms. Then he realized what he was doing and looked down at himself. He looked just like he had before. Skinny knees and legs, noodle arms; completely human and wearing his favorite clothes. "Why do I look like this, then?"

"You cling to your humanity with great tenacity," she said. "Your soul reflects this." She tilted her head slightly. "I think this will help you."

"Oh," he said again. "Well… good. Because I don't want to forget my human life. It's the one I _want_. No matter _what_ I look like."

Her lips curved in amusement. "Your sister has a message for you," she said.

He looked up at her, gaping. "Mabel? Really? What did she say?"

"She said, and I quote: 'You tell him that if he forgets me, I'll make him regret it. Tell him that if he forgets me, I'm going to tell all our friends back home about his BABBA album collection and that I'll cover his side of the room in rainbow glitter. I'll make a bonfire with his Sibling Brothers books, and let that bratty kid from next door scribble in all his DD&MD manuals. You tell him that he promised not to get stupid, and that it doesn't matter what body he has, we're the Mystery Twins forever.'"

Dipper grinned wide, but his eyes were stinging and wet. Mabel. _Mystery Twins forever_. This was why he couldn't leave. "Well, how can I say no to that?" he said, surreptitiously scrubbing at his wet cheek with the back of his hand.

"Indeed," she said, her eyes twinkling. Then she knelt, and held out her arms to him.

Dipper blinked. Fear sparked through him. " _Now?_ " he asked.

"Now," she said.

Dipper trembled as he stepped forward. She gathered him in her enormous arms and lifted him, cradling him as easily as one would cradle an infant.

"Sleep now, bright little soul," she said, and Dipper felt his eyes close and all sensation fade away. "A new life awaits."

* * *

"…and then, Dipper ran and _jumped off the cliff_ ," Mabel said, and the dryads sitting around her in a wide circle gasped. Even human-jaded Al was leaning forward, completely caught up in the story, she was pleased to note. Telling them about summer vacation had definitely been a good idea to pass the time while waiting for Dipper to get back.

"He flew through the air," she continued, raising her fists. "Fearless! Yelling a great battle cry! Then he _crashed right through the eye of the Gideonbot!_ "

A few wide-eyed dryads clapped their hands over their mouths, and Mabel heard a few murmurs of _By the Mother's Roots_.

"The battle inside the Gideonbot's head commenced! Dipper punched Gideon, but Gideon fought back, the huge robot mimicking every move he made! And I was hanging onto its thumb, dangling over the great chasm! Then, Dipper landed a _tremendous_ punch to Gideon's face, and the giant robot's head spun around and around… and then…." Mabel hunched over and lowered her voice to a harsh stage whisper. "The Gideonbot _fell off the train tracks._ "

The dryads stared at her in stunned silence. After a long moment, Mabel heard a soft, hesitant whisper. "What happened then?"

"The Gideonbot fell down, _down_ , DOWN," Mabel intoned. "It crashed into the bottom of the chasm with a _great explosion_! BUT!" she said, holding up one finger. "How did Dipper and I survive?"

"How?" someone whispered, and she heard the question echoed in the circle.

Mabel straightened. "Dipper fell out of the robot's head as it was falling. We reached for each other, _straining_ to grasp each other's hands as we fell!" Mabel reached out toward an imaginary Dipper, re-enacting that dreadful moment. "The wind was whipping all around us! But finally our fingers touched! We grabbed each other, falling together to our _inevitable doom!_ And then…"

Dramatic pause. Mabel reached down and unclipped the tool from her belt and raised it in triumph. " _GRAPPLING HOOK!_ "

The dryad audience erupted in cheers and clapping. Mabel soaked it all in with a broad smile.

"So how did you get the Shack back?" one of the dryads in the middle called.

"What happened to Grunkle Stan?" said another.

"Did Gideon die in the crash? I bet he died. I bet that's when he turned into a vampire."

"Patience, patience," Mabel said, holding up her hands. "I'll get to it all, don't worry."

"You're going to have to get to it all later," Al said, looking past Mabel at the Mother's tree, and Mabel spun around to see that the faint aura around the tree was growing brighter. "Something's happening."

Mabel felt her heart leap to her throat. Finally. She was so excited to see Dipper again, no matter what he looked like, she could hardly stand it.

The dryads surrounding her stood, and the crowd parted so that Mabel could get closer to the tree. Al followed close behind, but the rest stayed back, watching silently.

The growing light around the tree pulsed. "What's happening?" Mabel asked.

Al made an irritated noise. "This is my first time seeing this too, remember?"

"Right, right," Mabel muttered, eyes glued to the tree, waiting, anxious that she didn't even know what she was waiting for.

And then she saw it. At the base of the tree, from one of its great, thick roots, a tiny, silver-petaled flower sprouted. She knew, just _knew_ , that Dipper was somehow in that flower.

She really hoped that the flower grew a bit more, because if Dipper came out of it the size it was now, she knew she would be dealing with one very upset brother. But yes, to her relief, the flower did seem to be growing.

"He's forming from her roots," Al said, and the awe was so thick in her voice that Mabel glanced at her.

"Is that important?"

"Important?" Al snorted. "It's unheard of! Mother nurtures us dryads, but we're all different species. None of us ever sprouted from her roots."

"Oh," Mabel said, and wondered if Dipper was going to come out looking like some kind of silver tree sprite. That might be cool.

The flower continued to grow, bud tightly closed, until it was as big as Mabel herself. Mabel breathed a sigh of relief. At least Dipper probably wouldn't have any height issues.

But then it kept growing, and Mabel started to get worried. What if Dipper was _too_ big? What if he was going to be a giant? How would that work?

And then, before her imagination could run wild with how she was going to tell her parents that Dipper had to live in the back yard because he couldn't fit in the house any more, the flower stopped growing.

Mabel stepped closer, her heart thudding in her chest. This was it. She was about to find out what kind of life she and Dipper would be living from now on.

Just as she reached the blossom, the flower unfurled, and there was Dipper lying curled inside, looking fast asleep.

Mabel's eyes widened. She clenched her fists under her chin, her smile threatening to split her cheeks, and she squealed with joy.

* * *

Dipper awoke to the sound of Mabel squealing. Probably over something unbearably cute, from the sound of it. His ears flicked in irritation, and he cracked one bleary eye open. "Knock it off, Mabel," he said. "You're giving me a headache."

For some reason, that only made Mabel squeal louder. "Ugh," he said, groggily rubbing his forehead with one hand. He pushed himself upright into a sitting position, instinctively tucking his four legs underneath him. "Okay, I'm _up_ , can you stop, please?"

Mabel's squealing started to resolve itself into words. "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, Dipper! You look _awesome_!" And suddenly she plowed into him, wrapping him in a huge hug, squeezing the breath out of his upper lungs.

"Oof! Mabel, what the heck—" He broke off as he felt her tears on his shoulder. "Mabel," he said, softer, but utterly confused as she refused to loosen her hug.

"I'm so glad," she said, half laughing, half sobbing. "I'm so glad. You're still you. No matter what you look like, you're still you."

Dipper blinked.

And then he remembered.

Mabel seemed to sense this, because she released him and stepped away as he leaped to his feet – all four of them – and looked himself up and down.

"Aaaaaand I'm still a deer," he said flatly.

Mabel giggled, wiping tears from her eyes. "You're still a deer," she agreed. "But like a _centaur_ deer." She gasped. "A _Deer_ -taur."

Dipper would have groaned, but he was only half listening. This was him. This was who he was now.

How on earth was he going to go home like this? Go to _school_ like this? How was he supposed to graduate high school with a high GPA so he could get accepted to a good technical college with a photography and media production minor to start his own ghost hunting show?

He sighed. He… he could worry about that later. He needed to deal with the here-and-now.

And speaking of the here-and-now… he looked around, only to find that he was in a night-shadowed forest clearing, and that he was being stared at by a hundred or so dryads, all dressed in flimsy silken dresses.

His throat went dry, he felt his face heat, and he skipped back a step or two.

"Uh… hi," he said, and he looked pleadingly at Mabel for help.

"Guys," Mabel exclaimed. "This is my twin brother, Dipper, the one I've been telling you about!" She grabbed his hand, and he let out an undignified yelp as she yanked him forward.

"And now," said another dryad, striding forward to step between him and Mabel and the rest of the dryads. "We're going to leave these two alone so that they can have their reunion in peace, without _everyone staring at them_."

This dryad, Dipper realized, was wearing human street clothes. He further realized that he recognized her. She was the one who had come to the Shack; the one who had appeared to him in his mindscape. And, to his immense relief, her words had the effect of sending the rest of the dryads scattering off into the forest.

"Aw, Al," Mabel said, pouting. "I wanted him to meet them."

"Later," the dryad said, and then paused when she saw the look on his face. "Maybe," she amended, immediately earning his gratitude. "In the meantime, you can introduce us."

"Oh, right," Mabel said, and she grinned. "Dipper, this is Al, my best dryad buddy. Al, this is Dipper, my awesome twin brother."

Al reached out her hand. "Al is short for Alejandra," she said, and he smiled a little as he shook her hand. Alejandra seemed like a much more sensible name for a dryad than Al.

"Um, nice to meet you," he said. "Officially. I remember you from my mindscape. Where did you go, anyway? One second we were talking, and the next, you disappeared."

Dipper didn't miss the look Mabel and Al exchanged, and he frowned.

"You know what?" Al said. "I'm just going to…" She pointed off into the forest where her fellow dryads had gone. "Give you two some space now. Private time. Have fun getting reacquainted, see ya!" And she ran off.

Dipper folded his arms across his chest. "What was _that_ all about?" he said, not bothering to hide his suspicion.

"I'll tell you in a minute," Mabel said. "First, I want to know - how do you feel, now that you're all…" She gestured at him.

He thought about it. "I feel… normal," he said carefully. "And _that's_ what's weird."

"Why is it weird?"

"Because I've spent my whole life human, and all of a sudden, I'm this…" He gestured down at himself. "Whatever the heck I am."

"Deer-taur," Mabel said.

"We are _not_ calling me that," Dipper said immediately.

"We so are." Mabel was grinning.

Dipper groaned. "What I mean is," he said, glaring at Mabel as he tried to get back on topic. "This body feels as normal to me as my human body felt before."

"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?" Mabel asked.

Dipper shook his head. He didn't know how to explain to her how _unsettling_ this was. He had been human. He remembered _being_ human, how it _felt_ to be human. But he wore this new body like he'd had it all his life. He moved without thinking. He had to concentrate to think about what was new to him. What _should_ feel new to him, but didn't. He hadn't even realized he'd changed until he actually _looked_ at himself.

And that reminded him. "Mabel," he said. "Do I still look like me?"

Her brow creased, and she tilted her head. "Say what, bro-bro?"

"I mean, from the waist up," he said, exasperated. "Do I still look like… my _old_ me?"

Mabel laughed. "Well, yeah," she said. "I mean, except for the ears, and the antlers, and that cute little black button nose!"

And as Mabel listed the differences, he suddenly became acutely aware of them. He felt the weight of his antlers for the first time, and realized that his ears had been twitching back and forth as he unconsciously kept track of all the nearby sounds. And all the scents he smelled - he had been taking them in and sorting them without a thought. Trees, grass, moss, stone, water, insects. The individual dryads, moving about past the tree line and beyond. Birds and animals. He could smell and recognize them all – something he absolutely could _not_ do as a human.

He was running on instinct, he realized. The thought left him cold. He remembered, all too well, how deer instinct had robbed him of all coherent thought, to the point where he couldn't understand spoken or written language.

He took a deep breath. It wasn't like that now. He was thinking as clearly and coherently as he ever did when he'd been human.

Wasn't he?

If he wasn't, would he even be able to tell?

"Dipper," Mabel said, her voice sharp. "Knock it off."

He looked at her, startled. "Knock what off?"

She glowered at him, hands on her hips. "Whatever it is that you're thinking, knock it off. I know that look on your face. You're taking a little problem and over-thinking it until it becomes a huge problem."

He looked at her, perplexed. "You think I'm over-thinking it?"

"Yes, doofus." She poked him on his cheek. "Boop."

He found himself smiling a little. "Huh," he said. She was right. He was over-thinking it – as usual. And she recognized the look on his face. His _new_ face.

Maybe he didn't have as much to worry about as he thought.

Mabel's angry face relaxed into a smile as she looked at him. "That's better," she said.

Dipper snorted and was about to concede her point, when the scent and sound of Mother emerging from her tree hit him full force. He turned to see her stepping delicately down from the trunk of the tree, and blinked. She looked… different. Shorter, for one thing. Less world-encompassing, more dryad-like, with silver skin that matched her tree, and pale green hair.

He stepped toward her, then stopped, shifting on his front hooves nervously. "Mother?" he said.

She smiled at him and reached out to touch his cheek. "Yes, child."

"Oh, okay," he said, suddenly feeling inexplicably shy. "I thought so, you smelled the same, but you look so different."

"It is in my nature to change," she said. "But I have not come simply to welcome you, but to warn you. Warn you both." She looked over at Mabel.

"Warn us about what?" Dipper asked.

"Your home in Gravity Falls is under attack," Mother said. "The child vampire has given his form over to the dream demon, and the demon seeks to use its power to subjugate the inhabitants of Gravity Falls. He intends to use them to lay siege to your home and obtain that which will start his apocalypse. He rages against the thread of Fate that turned against him, and he seeks even now to twist them to his own desires. He may yet succeed if you do not stop him."

Dipper felt his heart clenching, cold fingers of fear skittering down his spine with every word she spoke. "How do you know this?"

"The same way I knew that you would need my help, were you ever to be free of your curse."

Dipper nodded, and narrowed his eyes in thought. "Right. So, can we stop him?"

"Yes."

Dipper frowned. " _Will_ we stop him?"

"That is up to you," she said, and Dipper suppressed a groan. "Now you must hurry, children. Time is of the essence."

"Of course it is," Dipper said glumly, and sighed, turning to Mabel as Mother stepped back into her tree. "Come on, we'd better hurry and try to come up with some kind of—" He broke off as he saw the stricken look on her face. "What's wrong? It's just Bill in Gideon's stupid vampire body. We can beat him easy."

Mabel stared at him with wet, wounded eyes. "You… you called her Mother."

Dipper blinked in surprise, then thought back over the last few minutes. "I… you're right. I did. I wasn't really thinking about it, it just kind of… came out."

"What about Mom?" Mabel whispered. "Is _she_ your mom now?" She pointed at the tree.

"What? No!" Dipper protested, but deep inside, that sick, disturbed feeling was back. He _had_ called her Mother.

It had been _instinct_.

He swallowed. "Look, Mabel," he said. "Mom is Mom. She's _my_ Mom. _Our_ Mom." He reached out and took Mabel's hand. "That's never going to change, okay? No matter what." But even as he said the words, he had to wonder just how true they were.

"Okay," Mabel said. She sniffled, and forced a smile. "Guess it was my turn to be a big stupid-head."

Dipper smiled back. "Guess so."

Mabel took a deep breath, and her smile became more genuine. "So," she said. "We need to get back to Gravity Falls asap!" She sidled up to him. "You know what _that_ means."

He didn't like the look in her eyes. "What?" he asked.

"You are going to give me deer-taur ride!" she said, and before he could protest, she jumped on his back.

"Augh! Mabel, no!" Dipper grit his teeth and clenched his fists at his sides, struggling against every urge he had to buck her right over his head. "Get off me!"

"Mabel, _yes_ ," she replied. "How else are we going to get back?"

"We could, I don't know, _walk_ ," Dipper said. Her weight on his back was maddening, and he started shifting from hoof to hoof.

"Do you have any idea how far away Gravity Falls is?" Mabel said, refusing to budge. "It took Al around four hours to carry us here, and she was running at near freeway speeds!"

That took Dipper aback. He'd been unconscious the whole trip, and had no idea where Gravity Falls was from here.

Or… wait. Yes, he did. Al's scent. He knew it. He could follow it all the way back to the Shack.

"So unless you want to get a couple of dryads to carry us back, you're going to have to give me a ride, bro-bro."

Dipper took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. " _Fine_ ," he said. But ugh, it felt so weird. So unnatural.

"Yay!" Mabel cheered.

"Don't get used to this," Dipper said sulkily. "This is a one-time thing, and only because it's an emergency."

"Sure thing, broseph." Mabel sounded anything but convinced.

"Okay. Just… hang on. Try not to fall off."

Mabel wrapped her sweater-clad arms around his chest, and Dipper found her scent comforting. He relaxed a little. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready!"

He sprinted. Jumped. _Ran_.

He heard Mabel gasp, but otherwise she didn't do anything except hold on a little tighter.

But he didn't care, because this. Was. _Amazing_.

The trees and shrubs seemed to part before him, and he ran, the night air cool against his skin, the stars brilliant above, and he had never felt _anything_ like this before. The whole forest was alive around him, and he could smell it, hear it, _feel_ it _all_.

His sensitive ears picked up Mabel's whisper as she pressed her head against his back and clung to him a bit tighter. "I think we might get there faster than four hours," she muttered.

Dipper grinned. Oh, she had no _idea_.

* * *

Alejandra and Dysis watched as Dipper ran past them, fast and joyful as the wind, Mable holding on like her life depended on it - which, as fast as they were going, it likely did. In moments, the children were gone, far beyond either of their senses.

"So," Dysis said.

"So," Alejandra agreed.

Dysis tapped her chin. "His father is the sky, his mother is the earth."

"Apparently."

"Did you feel the power coming off him?"

Alejandra laughed. "Kind of hard to miss it," she said.

"Think he has any idea that he's basically a demigod now?"

"Only a demigod?"

"His soul seemed pretty fixed on being human," Dysis said.

Alejandra tilted her head. "Point." And then she smiled. "He's a smart kid. I'm sure he'll figure it out soon."

* * *

It's away!

* * *

A/N: Woo! There is finally a cervitaur in this cervitaur-titled fic.

Hoo-boy. This chapter was a doozy. Nearly twice as long as any other chapter so far. Consider this extra-long chapter an apology for my last two cliffhangers. :)

I have not proof-read this. I will tomorrow when it's not 12:43 am, and post any fixes then.

Last of all, thank you dear readers. Thanks for the likes and the kudos. Thank you especially to those of you who have taken the time to leave comments and reviews. I have yet to respond to each one of you personally, but I will, because I want to thank you personally. You're the reason this fic is still alive and well.


	9. Chapter 9

Ain't No Cure for the Cervitaur Blues  
A Gravity Falls Fanfic  
by Krista Perry  
I own nothing.

* * *

Chapter Nine  
 _In Which Mr. and Mrs. Pines Get a Strange Assortment of Wake-up Calls_

* * *

Mrs. Amy Glinsky Pines woke from a sound sleep, feeling as though something was terribly wrong.

Amy stared at the ceiling, blinking in confusion, feeling her pulse race. There was a cold, twisting sensation in her stomach. _What in the world?_ she wondered. She wasn't prone to having panic attacks, especially in the middle of the night while she was sleeping.

She hadn't been dreaming - at least nothing that she could remember. Nothing that would explain the way her heart thudded painfully in her chest. She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked at the clock on the bedside table. It read 12:07 am. The flat screen TV on the wall opposite the bed showed Netflix paused in the middle of an episode of Scrubs, with _Are you still watching?_ overlaid on the still frame.

In the bed next to her, Aaron Pines shifted in his sleep. His eyes moved rapidly beneath his closed lids, because of course _he_ was dreaming. Her husband almost always remembered his dreams, and she loved when they were coherent enough that he could tell her about them. His dreams were usually ridiculous and good for a laugh, like the one he had a few nights ago where he dreamed that Thomas Edison was lurking outside, trying to get into the house. Aaron wouldn't let him in because he didn't want the long-dead scientist trying to take credit for any modern-day inventions. He kept yelling, "Go away! They all have patents already!" but Edison wouldn't give up, so Aaron closed all the blinds and told the kids to stay away from the windows.

The kids. Dipper and Mabel. They were finally coming home from Gravity Falls next week, and not a moment too soon, because the house was lonely and empty and too big and quiet without them, especially when Aaron was on call at the hospital. It wasn't a very far stretch of the imagination to realize that the source of the sick, cold feeling filling her gut was due to her children's lengthy absence, and she felt a bit of relief at having found the source of this strange out-of-the-blue anxiety. She took a few slow, deep breaths, forcing herself to relax the tension in her shoulders, getting her pulse back under control. The kids were _fine_. This was just her subconscious worries getting the best of her for a moment.

When she and Aaron had sent the twins away to stay with Uncle Stanford for the summer, neither of them had realized how quickly they would start to miss them. Dipper and Mabel, so different from each other, but thick as thieves, and both of them holding the most precious places in her heart. She had sent them away wanting them to exercise their growing independence, and to let them experience more of the world than just the Bay Area. Most importantly, she sent them away because she absolutely did _not_ want to be a helicopter mom. Her kids were amazing, brilliant and creative in their own ways, and she wanted to give them space to grow.

And yet, she could admit to herself that she couldn't wait to have them back home. She couldn't wait to hear them running through the house, making so much noise that she would send them into the back yard to play and get rid of their pent-up energy. She couldn't wait to share some of the good books she had read over the summer with Dipper. She couldn't wait to read Mabel's summer scrapbook, see all the pictures she had taken, and get an earful of juicy gossip about the goings-on in the small Oregon town.

Amy had never visited Gravity Falls herself, but Aaron had assured her that it was a perfectly fine place for the kids to spend the summer, in spite of the dangerous, fantastic, and completely unbelievable summer adventures Mabel described in her letters.

Amy strongly suspected Dipper had a hand in concocting Mabel's tall tales, since he often got to play the role of hero in their adventures, some of which were surprisingly dark. _Especially_ the story surrounding Mabel's sock puppet musical. The thought of her twelve-year-old son making deals with demons (even one as ridiculous-sounding as this "Bill") and getting possessed gave her the heebie jeebies.

That part of the story definitely had Dipper's contributions all over it, what with his obsession with the paranormal and supernatural, and reading it made her feel a _little_ bit of regret over introducing him to Stephen King so young. "You know," Aaron had said, giving her an amused _I-told-you-so_ look after reading the letter, "maybe giving Dipper _Pet Sematary_ for his twelfth birthday wasn't such a hot idea after all." She had responded with utmost maturity, sticking her tongue out at him and blowing a raspberry.

The end of that particular adventure, on the other hand, was all Mabel. She wrapped it up by tickling the demon right out of Dipper's body, and then apologizing to her brother for ignoring him all week.

She wasn't sure what to make of the letter Mabel had sent just a couple of weeks earlier, talking about having _two_ grunkles, and there being an interdimensional portal hidden in the non-existent basement of the Mystery Shack, but Aaron had been pleased. "If Uncle Stanford is finally talking to the kids about Uncle Stanley," he said, "then it's proof that he's finally put his grief behind him and moved on." He had chalked up the Stanford-Stanley name switching talk to Mabel's imagination, and the interdimensional portal story to Dipper's wish-fulfillment of finally finding the mysterious "author of the journals," which had been an on-going theme throughout the summer.

Amy was constantly amazed at her children's creativity, especially when they joined forces. When the twins got home, she planned on asking them what they thought about fleshing out Mabel's letters into an actual YA fantasy book manuscript. She figured it was worth a shot, since she had seen far less interesting stories get publication.

Next to her, Aaron groaned and tossed his head in his sleep. She looked at him and saw the furrow creased between his brows. His mouth curved into a slight frown, and he muttered something unintelligible. She briefly considered waking him up, but then decided against it. No reason he shouldn't be able to keep sleeping just because she was having an unusual bout of insomnia.

She looked at the clock again. 12:14 am. The spike of adrenaline that had woken her had faded, but she was still wide awake, and unable to completely rid herself of that _something is wrong_ feeling. She needed to distract herself from this irrational upset, she realized, or she was never going to get back to sleep. Slipping out of bed, she stuck her feet in her slippers and padded out of the bedroom. As she left, Aaron muttered something in his sleep again.

She went down the hall and turned the corner to where her temporary library was, right next to the kids' bedroom. The library would become Dipper's bedroom when the kids got back, and she was _not_ looking forward to packing up all the books and lugging them down past the main floor to the newly-finished basement, where they had built the new library, a guest room, full bath, and a large family TV room.

She smiled a little. The kids were going to go crazy over the new entertainment center. She couldn't wait to see their reactions. And maybe, with the new guest room, they might actually be able to convince Uncle Stanford to come visit for the holidays.

Sighing, desperately trying to ignore that haunting sensation of _wrong_ that refused to leave the pit of her stomach, she pulled a book from one of the floor-to-ceiling shelves. G.R.R. Martin's _A Dance of Dragons_. She had read it when it had been released the year previous, so it wouldn't keep her awake turning pages to find out what happens next like it did the first time. Maybe, if she took this second read-through slow enough, the next book in the series might be released by the time she finished.

Well… a girl could dream, couldn't she?

* * *

Aaron Pines was dreaming.

He _knew_ he was dreaming, and that surprised him. It was quite the rare occasion that his dreams were lucid enough for him to know that he was not awake, and every single one of those occasions was deeply unsettling. They always brought to mind the time when he was ten years old, and Grandma Pines had come to visit his family in Pennsylvania. He was in the back yard, bouncing a baseball off the cinder-block garage and catching it in his mitt, when she came out the kitchen door, looking tall and a little bony in a red dress and matching heels, her graying hair piled on her head in a bun. She called him to come over. When he did, she gestured for him to sit down on the grass, then she joined him, wincing as her joints creaked. Once she was settled, she reached over and took his face in her hands, and looked him over.

"Yeah," she said finally, in her thick Jersey accent. "Just like I thought. You got a touch of the gift." She released his face and stretched out her legs, kicking off her heels with a sigh.

"Gift?" he said.

"I saw a little of it in you when you were just a baby, back when you and your ma were living with your grandpa and me, while your dad was still at the war in 'Nam."

Aaron didn't remember that time – he was too little - but he knew _of_ it. Dad had never forgiven Grandpa for kicking out Uncle Stanley while he was at the war, which was why Grandma was here visiting, and Grandpa was still back in Jersey.

"What gift?" he asked. He was ten years old, not _four_ , and he hated it when adults refused to give him direct answers. He wasn't _stupid_. He could already read at a ninth-grade level, and when he grew up he was going to be like Uncle Stanford who had 12 doctorate degrees by the time he was twenty-two years old, and lived in Oregon researching all sorts of cool things having to do with quantum physics and aliens and stuff.

"Second sight, clairvoyance, being psychic… whatever ya wanna call it," she said, waving a dismissive hand, her long, glossy painted fingernails flashing in the sunlight. "Seeing things, knowing things that ain't quite normal, you know? I got a bit of it too. Runs in the family on my ma's side."

Aaron knew, because of all the stories Dad told about his parents from growing up – stories he usually accompanied with the heavy rolling-of-eyes. "Dad says you're a fake," he said bluntly, wondering if she would get offended.

She shrugged. "I am, mostly," she said, then winked at him. "Gotta pay the bills somehow." Her gaze grew distant, and her mouth turned up at the corner in a wry smile. "But every now and then, I'll be on a call, and out of the blue I'll just _know_ something. Something true, and real… and it will just come spilling out of my mouth before I know what's happening." She chuckled and shook her head. "Usually shocks the hell out of me."

Aaron raised an eyebrow at her. "So… let me get this straight, Grandma," he said. "You're telling me that you're a fake psychic who occasionally gets a flash of the real thing."

"Exactly." She nodded in satisfaction.

"And you're saying I might occasionally get a flash of the real thing too."

"You _are_ a smart one," she said, and ruffled his hair. "Just like my Fordsie."

Aaron grinned. Although he wasn't sure what to make of her " _hey kid, you're a little bit psychic_ " talk, she had just made his day by comparing him to Uncle Stanford. "Dad says he might let me go stay with Uncle Stanford for a few weeks in the summer when I get old enough to travel by myself," he said.

"Oh, I think that's a great idea," Grandma Pines said. "Fordsie could certainly use the company, and I think you two would get along famously."

That thought pleased Aaron more than he could express, but it must have shown on his face, because Grandma Pines laughed.

"Anyway," Grandma Pines said, leaning back on her hands, lifting her face toward the sun with her eyes closed. "I just thought you deserved a heads-up. You see or hear or know anything out of the normal, you give me a call, hon. We'll have a nice chat about it, okay?"

Aaron grimaced a little. "I dunno," he said. "I don't think Dad would like it much if I started talking about being psychic like you. Uh, no offense."

"That's because your father, dear as he is to my heart," she said, placing one hand over her chest, "has the imagination of brick. A pixie could fly up and bite him on the nose, and he'd swat it away and complain about giant fireflies."

Aaron laughed. "Yeah, you're right," he said. Then he paused. " _Are_ there such things as pixies?" he asked hesitantly.

Grandma Pines shrugged. "Hell if I know," she said. "Never saw one. But if I did, I wouldn't force myself to believe otherwise, just for the sake of a world-view that doesn't have room for such things."

Aaron thought that might be one of the wisest things he had ever heard.

For a long, long time after Grandma Pines' visit, that was the end of it. He never forgot that conversation, though.

And then, not long after he got his second Bachelor's degree and started working part-time as a software engineer to pay his way through medical school – part of his grand plan to get through university without any debt – he'd had that first dream.

He had fallen asleep at his desk over his textbooks, when he felt someone standing behind him. Knowing that he was dreaming, he sat up and turned around in his swivel chair. Standing in the middle of his bedroom was his roommate, Andy Simmons. Simmons was a business undergrad who liked to dress up like Billy Idol on Friday nights and go bar-hopping with his buddies. And here he was, dressed in black leather and spikes, standing in the middle of his room… but his skin was ash-grey, his bleach blonde hair was wet and limp, his eyeliner was running in streaks down his face, and there was water dripping off his blue-tinged fingers and puddling on the carpet.

"Hey, mate," Simmons said in his horrible fake-London accent, and his voice sounded like it was slogging through layers of mud before escaping to the air. "Shoulda left the car keys with you, like you said. Oh well. Don't wait up." And he disappeared.

Simmons never came back to the apartment, and the morning news had the story of how he had driven his car off an embankment and landed upside-down in the nearby river. Three passengers, no survivors, open alcohol bottles found in the vehicle.

Aaron went sleepless for nearly four days after that, before exhaustion caught up with him and he ended up accidentally sleeping through work and a full day of classes. Fortunately, his boss and his professors were understanding because of his previous work ethic, and one of his professors even took him aside to make sure he wasn't burning out. He wasn't, he assured the professor. Just had a bad few nights is all, what with his roommate dying in a drunk driving incident. No, they weren't really close, they just split the rent and tried to keep out of each other's way. Yes, he was sure he'd be back to normal soon.

During those sleepless four days and nights, he thought about calling Grandma Pines. He thought about it a lot.

Since then, there had been a couple of those _particular kind of dreams_ , but nothing nearly as gruesome or traumatic. Both of those dreams had a faceless patient at the hospital asking for help. Both times, he had gone into work despite not being on call or on the schedule, and both times an emergency patient had come in needing his skills as an orthopedic surgeon – one of them an eight-year-old girl unable to walk, complaining of pain without any obvious injury, who ended up having an infected hip joint.

He figured that if he had to be a "little bit psychic," he could deal with the rare dreams-that-weren't-dreams, especially if they were helpful.

And as he realized he was having one of those dreams right now, at this very moment, he hoped that _this_ dream would be helpful and not… like that first one.

He was standing at the edge of a small clearing in the middle of a forest. On the other edge of the clearing, about ten feet away, were his children.

Dipper was sitting on the ground, his legs folded awkwardly beneath him, his hands hanging limply in his lap. Mabel stood next to him, her hand on his shoulder.

Aaron took a few steps toward them before he saw that there was something wrong with Dipper's eyes. They were blue instead of brown, the blue iris filling the entire eye, leaving no sclera, and his pupils were long, black horizontal slits. Animal eyes, he realized, like a goat or a horse.

"Dipper?" he said, taking another hesitant step forward. Dipper didn't respond, and the utterly blank look on his face left Aaron feeling chilled. What kind of crazy dream was this? "Son?"

"He doesn't understand you, Dad," Mabel said, sounding like she was disappointed that he hadn't already known that. "He's cursed."

Aaron looked at Mabel. "Cursed?" he said. "What do you mean?"

"Bill cursed him," Mabel said. "He's that triangle demon I wrote to you about."

Aaron's head began to ache, and he pressed a hand to his forehead. "Triangle demon," he repeated.

"Yep," Mabel said.

Then Dipper began to sink into the ground. Aaron watched in alarm as the dirt and grass seemed to suck him downward into the earth like quicksand. Dipper just sat and didn't fight it, staring blankly with those disturbing animal eyes as he sank to his waist, then his chest. Aaron jerked forward, reaching to grab his son and pull him from the ground that was swallowing him up…

…or at least, he meant to. He couldn't move.

"Dipper!" he shouted, and he frantically looked at Mabel. "Quick, grab him! Help him!"

But Mabel just watched her brother sink into the earth. "I can't," she said, as vines snaked out of the ground, covering Dipper's head, before pulling him completely under.

Aaron felt his breath stop in his throat, his heart clenching as Dipper vanished, the ground smoothing over, looking as if nothing had disturbed it. He looked at Mabel, horrified.

She looked back at him with sad, wet eyes. "I didn't want it to happen," she said, "but she said it was the only way to break the curse."

"Who said?" Aaron asked, his voice coming out as a strangled croak. "Mabel, what's going on? Where is Dipper?"

But Mabel was gone, and in her place stood a grey-skinned woman with green hair.

"Who are you?" he said, fear and anger filling him in equal measures. "Where is my son?"

"He is yours no longer," the woman said, not unkindly. "Though, should he survive the night, he will no doubt return to you regardless."

" _Survive the night_?" Aaron wanted to reach out and take this strange woman by the shoulders and shake her until he finally got a straight answer, but he still couldn't move. "What is going on?" he screamed. " _Where are my children?_ "

The woman turned and looked behind her. "They go to face the demon," she said, and off in the distance behind the woman, he could see Mabel and Dipper holding hands as they ran together, leaving him behind. He could see Mabel clearly, but Dipper was indistinct; a blur of familiar color that he couldn't bring into focus.

"Wait!" he shouted, and suddenly the woman was gone, and he could move again. He ran, chasing after his children, who didn't seem to hear him. "Dipper," he called desperately. "Mabel, please! _Wait—_ "

* * *

… and Aaron woke shouting, sitting up in bed, arms reaching out, hands grasping at thin air.

He gasped for breath, feeling like he'd just run a marathon, his heart pounding, cold sweat pricking his skin. He stared wildly around the room for a moment before getting his bearings, then cursed softly.

Amy came running into the bedroom in her night shirt and slippers, a thick paperback book hanging from her fingers, and he felt a brief flash of gratitude that she was already awake and that he hadn't woken her with his yelling.

"What's wrong?" she said, and then relaxed slightly as she saw him sitting up in bed. "Whoa. Nightmare?"

He rubbed shaking hands over his face, his stubble scratching his palms. "I don't know," he said honestly. His head ached as if he were recovering from a concussion. "Where's my phone?"

"In the charger," she said, giving him a puzzled look as she went over to the dresser and retrieved it for him. She sat on his side of the bed, frowning with worry as she saw his face, and handed him the phone. "Aaron, what's wrong? Are you sick?" She put her hand against his cheek. "Hon, you're freezing."

He shook his head. "I'm not sick, I just…" He took a deep, steadying breath. "I need to call Uncle Stanford."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You do realize it's half past midnight, right? Do you really want to wake him up at his hour?"

"Yes," he said, fumbling through his contacts. "I need to check on the kids. I'm sure he'll understand."

He didn't miss the way Amy put a hand on her stomach, as if she was feeling nauseous, and then clenched her fist. "That must have been some nightmare," she said.

Aaron only nodded as he pressed the call button and held the phone to his ear. There was a pause, a click, and then the dull, rattling ring of long-outdated land-line phone system. After the seventh ring, there was another loud click as he found himself listening to an old tape-recorder voice mail machine.

"Hi! This is Mr. Mystery at the Mystery Shack!" Uncle Stanford's exuberant, gravelly voice sounded in his ear. "We're open from—"

He hung up, muttering a curse under his breath.

"Try again," Amy said, and there was something in her voice that made him look at her. He saw in her expression the same un-named dread that was churning his stomach. _Don't name it_ , he thought. _Don't examine the feeling too close, because that might make it more real._

He called again and got the answering machine. Before Uncle Stanford could even get past "Hi!" he hung up and tried again.

"Leave a message this time," Amy whispered, leaning close, and he nodded.

* * *

Wendy sat in the control room in the bottom level of the Mystery Shack basement, keeping her utterly boring vigil over the surveillance monitors while Ford and Stan were digging a hole in the dirt floor of the portal room. After making a barricade around the basement door in the gift shop, they had filled the stairwell with obstacles, shut down the elevator, and were now planning to bury the rift as one final precaution.

"Still nothing outside," Soos called from his post at the periscope.

"Soos," Stan said, heaving a shovel full of dirt over his shoulder with a grunt of pain. "You don't have to keep telling us that there's nothing there. Just tell us when you see someone coming."

"Sure thing, Mr. Pines," Soos said cheerfully.

Wendy groaned and rubbed grit out of her eyes. She was tired, but there was no way she was going to try to sneak a nap like she would do at work. Too much was on the line. Bill was enslaving the town with his stolen vampire powers, and her family was out there. Her friends were out there. And Bill was going to use them as pawns to get at the rift, regardless of whether or not it hurt them.

And… the phone was ringing.

For a split second, she wondered how she could be hearing the gift shop phone ring all the way down in the basement, but then she realized the sound was coming through the gift shop surveillance monitor.

"Uh, guys?" she called over to Ford and Stan. "The phone in the gift shop is ringing."

"Ignore it," Stan answered, stepping out of the hole. He handed the shovel to Ford, who took his place.

"Well, yeah, I kind of have to," she said, unsuccessful in her attempt to keep the snark out of her voice, "since there's no way to get up there at the moment. But aren't you curious to see who it is? What if it's someone who needs help? Or someone trying to warn us?" As she spoke, the answering machine clicked on, and she heard the first sentence of Stan's Mystery Shack spiel before whoever it was hung up.

"Are they leaving a message?" Stan called.

"No, they hung-" She broke off as the phone started ringing again. "Aaaand they're calling again."

She knew Stan's curiosity was getting the better of him when he stretched until his joints popped, then walked over just in time to hear the caller hang up on his " _Hi!_ "

Stan scowled. "Well, if they don't leave a message, how are we—"

The phone rang again. This time, when the answering machine picked up, the caller didn't hang up. Stan and Wendy exchanged a glance. Maybe this time they'd actually get to hear the mystery caller.

"... _then leave a message after the beep. Or don't. I don't care_." Stan's recorded voice sounded tinny through the speaker. There was a beep. Then, they heard someone clear their throat.

"…Uncle Stanford? This is Aaron."

Stan paled alarmingly, and Wendy wondered if she would have to catch him if he passed out.

"Oh, crap," he said, gripping the edge of the console.

"Who's Aaron?" Wendy asked, but Stan waved her silent. Ford came up behind Stan, brushing dirt of his gloved hands, frowning, his forehead creased with concern.

"Hey, I know it's late, and I'm sorry if this wakes you up," Aaron continued, "but I'm calling to check on the kids. I know it's strange to be calling at 12:30 in the morning, but I really… _really_ need to know how Dipper and Mabel are doing." There was the sound of whispering. "Amy wants to say hi, and we both… okay, I know this sounds crazy, but if you could just call us back and let us know that the kids are all right, it would really take a weight off, you know?"

Wendy suddenly understood the panicked expression on Stan's face. Aaron was Mabel and Dipper's _dad_. Why was he calling, now of all times?

"Anyway," Aaron said, "please call us back as soon as you get this message. It doesn't matter what time. It could be four in the morning, we don't care, just… call us back. Uh, hope to hear from you soon. We love you… Bye."

Ford's soft voice broke the ensuing silence. "That was Aaron? I haven't seen him since he was a baby."

Stan's eyes were glued to the gift shop monitor, and he still clutched at the console like a lifeline. "Yeah, well, he came to visit for a couple of weeks about four years after you went through the portal. You'd like him. He idolizes you, and your _twelve doctorate degrees_." Stan grit his teeth. "He's a good kid, but it sucked, pretending to be you for half a month."

Wendy bit back a grimace as Ford's jaw sagged open. Her inner "drama alert" warning was going off like crazy.

"That's why their parents sent the kids here for the summer," Ford said. "They thought you were _me_."

"Right," Stan said, letting go of the console and turning to glare at Ford. "Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Poindexter. They thought I was dead, and even if I wasn't, who would want _Uncle Stanley_ around their kids?"

Ford raised a hand. "Now, Stanley, that's not what I—"

"Well, I'm not sorry I did it!" Stan said. His color had returned, and now he was flushing angrily. Wendy was pretty sure such drastic complexion changes couldn't be good for his health. "I'm _glad_ I did it, because those kids… they mean the world to me!"

"I know," Ford said, and Wendy blinked at him, shocked. She was fully expecting this fight to go nuclear, but Ford was defusing the bomb with his soft words. "They mean the world to me too, Stanley. I… I can't blame you for taking the opportunity to be with them."

Stan looked at Ford, and Wendy could see the anger visibly draining out of him. "What am I going to tell Aaron, Sixer?"

Ford put his hand on Stan's shoulder. "We'll figure that out together, when the time comes."

"How did they know?" Wendy asked, and Ford and Stan looked at her blankly, as if suddenly realizing that yes, she was, in fact, still standing right there.

"What?" Ford asked.

"The kids' parents," Wendy said. "How did they know that Dipper and Mabel are in danger? Why did they call now, just when all this crap is going down?"

Stan and Ford exchanged a baffled look.

"Parental intuition?" Ford guessed.

"Dudes, I hate to interrupt," Soos said, "but we've got incoming townsfolk!" He was peering intently through the periscope. "I see… oh, first up is Mayor Cutebiker. Now, that's just not nice, going after him first. Oh, there's Tad, and Toby, and the werewolf mailman… they're walking all zombie-like…"

"Step aside, Soos," Stan said, and looked through the periscope as Soos moved out of the way. "Yeah, it's starting, all right. I can see about twenty or thirty people coming up the road." He looked at Ford. "Get that rift buried, Sixer," he said. "Wendy, Soos, battle stations."

Wendy nodded as Soos threw a brisk salute at Stan. "Aye aye, Mr. Pines!"

"Remember," said Ford, "we just have to hold out until sunrise. When the sun comes up, Bill's vampiric power will weaken, and we should be able to get the upper hand."

Wendy hoped that Ford was right because, tough as she was, she didn't know how long she could hold out if Bill hold on the town didn't weaken.

* * *

Aaron looked down at his phone, sitting uselessly in his palm. Amy reached over and squeezed his free hand.

"What now?" he asked. His inner dialogue was going crazy. _What now? What now? What now? Where are Dipper and Mabel? Where is Uncle Stanford? Why isn't he answering his phone?_

"Now," said Amy, standing to retrieve her phone from the charger on the dresser, "I'm calling the police. You keep your line free in case Uncle Stanford calls back."

Aaron nodded, and somehow managed a smile. It always seemed like Amy knew what to do whenever his own brain started spinning in circles.

"Yes," Amy said into her phone. "I need the number for the police department in Gravity Falls, Oregon." She grabbed a pen and sticky-note pad on the dresser. "No, I'll write it down, I don't want to be connected directly. Thank you." She scribbled a number on the pad.

"Okay," she said, peeling the sticky-note with the number off the pad. "I'll ask them to send someone over for a welfare check."

Aaron nodded as she typed the number into her phone. "Good idea." He patted the bed next to him, inviting her to sit down. "Hey, could you put it on speaker? I want to hear what they have to say."

Amy smiled and sat down, holding the phone between them as she pressed the speaker button.

The person who answered the phone was in the middle of a loud, long yawn. When the yawn finished, they could hear someone smacking their lips and clearing their throat before saying, in a thick drawl, "Hello, this is Deputy Durland of the Gravity Falls Police Department, how may I help you?"

Amy cast a _what the heck_ glance at Aaron. "Um, yes, my name is Amy Pines, and—"

"Ooh, ooh! Any relation to Stanford Pines, or Dipper and Mabel Pines?"

"Yes!" Amy said. "Yes, Dipper and Mabel are my children, and Stanford is my uncle-in-law."

"Well, now, you must be mighty proud of Stanford winning the election for mayor the other day. 'Course, it's a shame he was disqualified because of his criminal record, but I'm still glad I voted for him. The way he saved those young'uns from the dynamite explosion? That was awesome."

Aaron and Amy both stared at the phone.

" _What?_ " Aaron said.

"Whoa, what happened to your voice, Mrs. Pines? Did you turn into a man?"

Aaron was sure that his expression mirrored the incredulous look Amy was giving him. "No… uh, Deputy Durland, this is Aaron Pines. My wife and I have you on speaker phone."

"Wait, you mean I'm talking to two people at the same time?"

Aaron was getting a distinct sinking feeling in his stomach. "Yes," he said. "Look, is there anyone else we can talk to?"

"Sure thing, mister. Hey, Sheriff Blubs. Blubs! Wakey wakey, Blubs! Oh, it's always so hard to wake him up when he's sleeping on the steering wheel of the patrol car. He says it's way more comfy than his bed. Sheriff Blubs, wake up! Wake _uuuuuuuup!_ "

Aaron heard a deep voice groan. "Now, Durland, what did you go and wake me up for? 'Course, if I have to wake up, there's no face I'd rather see than yours, Deputy."

"Mr. _and_ Mrs. Pines are _both_ on the phone for you. They're Dipper and Mabel's parents."

"Well, now, hand that phone right over here." The sheriff's voice came to the forefront. "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Pines. May I just say what a delight it's been having your kids in town for the summer? They've been so helpful, especially Dipper when he saved us from that giant bat. Oh, and when he saved the town from that dreadful ghost at the Northwest mansion? 'Course, he _did_ raise the dead at the Mystery Shack karaoke party a few weeks back, but nobody's perfect, and I hear tell that Mabel led the attack that destroyed all those zombie monsters, so all's well that ends well, am I right?"

Aaron's headache was turning into a full-fledged migraine. Amy looked speechless. They were referring to stories that Mabel told in her letters. Were they in on it? They both seemed to know the kids well, so he supposed it was possible – if extremely unprofessional. "Sheriff Blubs, my wife and I are calling because we are both concerned about the current welfare of my Uncle Stanford and the kids. We were wondering if you could drive out and check on them and make sure they are all okay."

"Hm, I don't see why not," Sheriff Blubs said. "We can head out right—"

"Oh my gosh, Blubs, it's _Gideon_!" Deputy Durland's voice broke in loudly. "He's floating right outside my window! Help! Help! What do I do?"

"Just keep calm and grab the squirt guns, deputy! We'll holy-water that little town traitor right back to the hell he spawned from!"

"Oh, that sounds so dramatic! I can't find mine—oh, there it is! Roll down the window for me, Blubs, I got this! Eat holy water you little… little… ooh, your eyes are so pretty."

A high-pitched cackle sounded through the phone.

"Don't look him in the eyes, Durland!"

"Too late! He's my slave now! And you're next!"

"No! Not my precious deputy! Durland! Come back! Where is he going?"

"The same place you're going, fat boy!"

"I'm not going anywhere, you—you…"

"Now get going! Don't stop until you get me that rift! Well, now, what's this? Hello!"

Aaron's mouth had gone dry. "Who is this?" he asked.

"Name's Bill! Bill Cipher! But you can call me your future lord and master!"

This wasn't happening. There was no way this was happening. "I don't think so," he managed, not even quite sure what he meant by it.

"Oh yeah? Who's this?"

"None of your business," Amy said sharply. Her face was white, and Aaron realized she had taken his hand in hers and was squeezing it to the point of pain.

"Oh, I think I can guess! Aaron Pines! I remember you! I watched you the whole time you were here! I'll let you in on a little secret! You saw a _whole lot more_ than you remember! Next time you're in town, ask about the Society of the Blind Eye!"

Aaron felt like he was falling down the metaphorical rabbit hole. "I know of it," he said. His voice was a croak.

"Of course you do! Shooting Star told you all about it in her letters, didn't she!

" _Where are my children?_ " Amy shouted at the phone. Aaron felt his finger bones creak in her tightening grip.

"Wow, don't have a conniption, lady! They're off wandering in the woods somewhere! But don't worry, I'll find them, and when I do?" That unearthly, high-pitched laugh sounded through the speaker, deepening until it could only be the voice of a demon. "The games will begin!"

"Don't you touch them!" Amy screamed, but the maddening laughter filled the room. The phone shook in Amy's hand, and she cried out and flinched back as it rose out of her grip, floating in the air. The laughter grew impossibly louder, seeming to come from all around them, deep and high, hysterical and insane, until finally there was a _crack_ , and abrupt silence.

The phone fell to the floor. Its screen was shattered. Then, after a moment, it burst into blue flames.

Aaron stared at it numbly, before he moved automatically, pulling a blanket off the bed to smother the fire. At first he worried it wouldn't go out, but it did. He turned to face Amy.

She was sitting on the bed, eyes wide, her legs curled under her. Both hands covered her mouth, as if she was holding back a scream.

But she wouldn't. He knew her well enough to know that.

"It's all true," she said, lowering her hands. "Everything Mabel wrote in her letters."

"So it seems," he said.

They stared at each other, and familiar, wordless communication passed between them.

"I'll get Mabel's letters and pack a bag," Amy said, getting to her feet.

Aaron nodded. "I'll call the hospital. Marcus and Lance can cover my shifts for the next few days, and I'll have Candace reschedule my appointments. Do you want me to call Lucy and ask her to open the bookstore for you tomorrow?"

"Yes, thanks," Amy said. "Because apparently I need a new phone."

Aaron snorted, and she laughed. And if there was a slightly hysterical edge to it, he didn't care.

It was an eight-hour drive to Gravity Falls. Seven if he pushed the speed limit. He was going to try to get them there in six.

* * *

A/N: Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce Aaron and Amy Pines?

I am sorry for the delay. This past month has been full of sickness and stress. :(

I really hope this chapter isn't a disappointment after the last chapter, but Mr. and Mrs. Pines are going to play vital roles in the future. I hope you liked how I fleshed them out. If you have a moment, please let me know what you think.

Also, a very happy birthday to our two favorite Grunkles, Stan and Ford! Today, June 15th, is also the 5th anniversary of the first episode of Gravity Falls airing on television!

I am now going to respond to everyone who commented on the last chapter, since I have yet to do so. :shame: I hope you will forgive the late responses.

Until next time, remember that Gravity Falls will never die!


	10. Chapter 10

Ain't No Cure for the Cervitaur Blues  
A Gravity Falls Fanfic  
by Krista Perry  
I own nothing.

* * *

Chapter Ten  
 _In Which Dipper Tries to Adjust, the Pines Parents Try Not to Freak Out, Ford Has Maybe 12% of a Plan, and Dipper and Mabel Try To Save the Day_

* * *

Dipper ran, and the night forest filled him with every breath he took; sounds and scents and sights seeming to seep into his very skin until it was almost hard to tell where he ended and the forest began. Before tonight - this night that had changed everything - he would have long since stumbled to a stop, panting, sweating, doubled over with a stitch in his side, even though he had only been running a few minutes at most. Now he felt like he could run forever. Now, in this strange new body, he felt so light that his hooves barely felt the impact each time he touched ground. It was amazing, and, the longer he ran… a little terrifying as well.

Maybe more than a little.

When Mother had re-made him, he had done everything he could to hang on to his memories, to his humanity. And, much to his great relief, he had kept them both.

But there was something _new_ and completely alien within him. Something so vast and deep and strange that it felt like it dwarfed the part of himself that he had saved – the only part he _recognized_ as himself.

He was determined to not examine that huge, strange _something_ too closely. In fact, he made up his mind to ignore it completely, if he could.

Some things, however, were impossible to ignore. He couldn't just _pretend_ that he wasn't a deer from the waist down. He wasn't very happy that he hadn't been able to completely escape the whole fawn thing he'd been dealing with most of the day – and would now have to deal with for the rest of his life - but, as he thought about the journals, he knew it could have been a _lot_ worse. At least his mind was intact. At least the upper part of him was recognizable as his old self.

He just wished that he could take a moment and _stop_. Just stop and absorb everything. He wanted to have some time to get used to this new reality, because everything had happened so fast. It was _still_ happening too fast. Less than ten hours ago, he had been a somewhat normal, awkward kid on the cusp of becoming a full-fledged teenager, and now… now he wasn't even human. He had _died_ and been reborn, emerging from the roots of Mother's tree as this strange deer-centaur creature. Old life gone. New life begun.

He cringed inwardly as he realized that, technically, he was less than an hour old. But no, he told himself - regardless of how old (or young) this new body was, he still had nearly thirteen years of memories and experiences in his head. That had to count more than physical age, right?

And now he ran, following the dryad Alejandra's scent back to Gravity Falls because Bill had taken over Gideon's vampire body and was somehow enslaving the town, trying to get at the rift in the Shack so he could start his apocalypse, and he and Mabel needed to stop him somehow.

Mabel clung to him tightly, her arms wrapped around his torso, her forehead resting between his shoulder blades, her knees pressed tightly against his flanks. He wondered why she had ducked her face against him. He thought for sure she would be enjoying the ride with a lot more vocal enthusiasm.

He was just about to ask her if she was okay when the wind changed, and the smell of blood and… something far worse filled his head.

A few bounds forward, and he was right in the midst of the source of the terrible stench. There was a large pool of congealing blood on the ground. A little farther away, at the base of a large tree, a smaller pool of blood.

And then there was a thicket of dead, grey trees, all the life drained away by something decidedly unnatural. He could feel the strange residual power of whatever it was prickle against his skin.

Alarmed at this discovery, he skidded to an abrupt halt, and Mabel slammed into his back with an "oof!"

She slid ungracefully off his back to the ground with a watery moan. "Unhhh," she said. "Now I know why extreme roller coaster rides aren't longer than three minutes.

Dipper glanced at her, then frowned in concern as he realized that she looked a little green. "Are you okay?" he asked. Mabel usually had a cast-iron stomach when it came to bumpy rides.

"Yeah," she said, rubbing her face with both hands, before looking up at him. "I'm just a little—whoa!" She flinched back when she saw his face.

"What?" he asked, as her eyes grew wide and incredulous. He expected her to react to the blood like that, not _him_. "What's wrong?"

Mabel got to her feet and stepped toward him, peering at his face. He took a self-conscious step back, leaning away as she got closer.

"Wow," she said. "Your eyes are all deer-y. Like, no whites at _all_ , and your pupil's kinda…" She made a horizontal slashing motion with her hand. She squinted at him. "And I think you might be a little furrier, too."

Shocked, Dipper reached up and touched his face, closing his eyes and prodding his eyelids carefully with his fingers. His eyes felt…

…Well, actually, they felt a little larger than he remembered, and he was pretty sure his eye lashes hadn't been that long either. "What the heck," he muttered.

"Don't close your eyes, silly," Mabel said. "I want to see. They look kind of cool."

 _Cool?_ Mabel pretty much never used that word to describe him. He looked up, opening his eyes hesitantly, only to see the excited look on her face crumple. "Aw," she said. "They're back to normal."

"Normal?" Dipper felt dizzy, and he wasn't sure he could blame it completely on the blood smell. He was getting the distinct impression that the word _normal_ no longer applied to him in any way.

"Look," she said, pointing at his left shoulder. "Your extra fur is going away too!"

Dipper looked at his shoulder to see a layer of fine reddish fur, spotted with white, on his shoulder and upper arm, receding into his skin. He felt his stomach clench in dismay. "I… what?" He rubbed both his arms, feeling the fur vanish into smooth, hairless skin. "What's going on?" He looked at Mabel, only to flinch back as she reached a hand toward his face. "Hey, what are you doing?"

"I want to touch your nose," she said, as if he'd asked a ridiculous question.

Dipper clapped both of his hands over his nose. "No, Mabel, you're not—" He broke off and his breath caught in his throat as his right palm brushed the end of his nose. He turned away from Mabel's outstretched hand, and ran his fingertips down his nose. Normal… _human_ … until the very tip where it became bumpy and moist. That strange, bumpy wet skin covered the bottom tip of his nose and surrounded his nostrils.

He moved his hands away and, staring cross-eyed down his nose, he could just barely see a smudge of black at the very end.

He slumped and groaned aloud. _You've got to be kidding me_ , he thought. For years, he'd been so self-conscious about his birthmark that he'd covered it with his hair and a cap. This, he realized, was about a billion times worse.

Mabel had told him that, from the waist up, he looked like his old self. Well, he was pretty sure his old self didn't have over-large eyes and a pebbly black deer nose. He didn't even want to think about how absurd he probably looked with antlers and long, furry ears on top of that!

In his peripheral vision, he saw Mabel's hand approach again, and he smacked it away, feeling a little betrayed. "Knock it off," he said, turning away, wanting to hide his freakish face. "This isn't funny!"

"I didn't say it was funny," Mabel said, her voice hurt and angry. "I was just curious!" She wrapped her arms around her chest and shivered, in spite of her sweater. "Why did you stop, anyway?" she added sulkily. "Shouldn't we be getting back to the Shack so we can stop Bill?"

Dipper wanted to respond, but his mind was whirling. His chest felt too tight, and his breath was starting to come in short, quick gasps. Was this weird nose thing permanent? Why had his eyes changed? Why had he grown fur on the part of him that was supposed to be human? And why had it gone away again? He'd only been in this body for less than an hour, and already it was changing the rules on him!

Mabel's gaze softened as she looked at him. "Oh, hey, Dipper," she said, her voice contrite as she came up to him and put her hand on his back. "Come on, breathe, bro."

Breathe. Right. He was shaking, and he didn't know whether to be relieved or upset that his anxiety had carried over into this new, apparently fickle form. But he let Mabel help him like she sometimes did when it got really bad. She rubbed small circles on his back and counted softly while he struggled to keep rhythm as he sucked in air, held it, then released – a task made only more difficult by the choking stench of blood and death that surrounded them. But he focused on Mabel's voice, and breathed until the knot of anxiety in his chest loosened slightly.

"Better?" she asked.

He nodded and released a long, shaky breath. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," he said. "It's just… all of this." He gestured at himself. "I mean, I get that I chose this over, you know, _dying_ , and I'm trying to deal with it, but…"

… _but I'm not doing very well, and this is just the beginning. How am I going to live like this?_

"I'm sorry too," Mabel said, biting her lip. "I didn't mean to make it worse for you." She sighed. "I mean, here I am just thinking that you look cool, and you're super fast, and maybe even kind of magical, and best of all, you're not dead… but I guess it's not so awesome from where you're standing, huh?"

Dipper nervously rubbed his elbow. "Yeah, not so much," he muttered. "I want to think about this and get used to it, but… when I do, I just feel overwhelmed." _So much for school. So much for going to college. So much for getting a career in televised paranormal investigations. So much for ever getting a girlfriend. So much for going back home to Mom and Dad. So much for…_

"Hey." He looked up as Mabel gave him a gentle nudge to his shoulder. "So, all this is new and strange and scary. I get that. I may not know exactly what you're going through, but… I've got your back, broseph. Just like you've had mine all summer long." She nudged him again and smiled. "Okay?"

He attempted a smile, but it felt a little broken. "Okay," he whispered.

Mabel beamed, and Dipper warmed inside, feeling that knot of anxiety loosen a little more. This was why he'd chosen to stay and live, regardless of his freakish new form. No matter what anyone else thought, Mabel didn't care what he looked like as long as they stuck together. Which was good, because he didn't think he'd be able to deal with _any_ of this without her.

"So," she said, "is that why you stopped?" She bounced a little on the balls of her feet. "Are you ready to head out again?"

He tilted his head at her quizzically. "Uh, no," he said, and only then realized that maybe Mabel couldn't see in the dark as well as he could. But surely she could _smell_ it, because the stench was nearly overpowering. "I stopped because there's blood everywhere," he said, gesturing at the ground. "And… then there's that." He pointed at the dead thicket – the source of the scent that was worse than the blood. It was _more_ than just a scent. It was a miasma of death and decay that clung to the crumbling branches and lingered on the ground in a trail of corruption that lead to the largest pool of blood, still wet and congealing. Just looking at it made his skin crawl and his fur bristle.

Mabel squinted at the ground, then gasped, and Dipper saw her turn pale as she stumbled back a few steps. He reached after her, grasping at her arm to steady her. "Mabel! Are you okay?"

She reached up and held one hand against her neck, even as she shook her head. "This is…" She trailed off, then swallowed convulsively. "I didn't even realize… This is where Gideon attacked us."

Dipper blinked.

" _What?_ "

* * *

Aaron, hands at ten and two on the steering wheel, eyes on the road, had just turned off Oakland Avenue and was pulling onto I-580 Northbound when Amy, in the passenger seat next to him, groaned loudly. On her lap was the shoebox in which she'd been keeping Mabel's letters home, and she was trying to go through them chronologically from the beginning of summer, reading them by the light of her phone flashlight.

"I can't do this," she said, and Aaron knew that the calm of her voice was just a thin façade over a growing panic. "It was one thing to read these letters when I thought she was just being creative, making things up, having a laugh…"

"I know, hon," Aaron said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye before checking the speedometer. He pressed his foot to the floor and in seconds sped up to 79 in a 65mph zone. He planned on going faster once they had left the city limits, and he really hoped that the Waze app on his iPhone warned him of any speed traps in time for him to slow down, because the last thing they needed when they were in such a hurry was to get pulled over for a speeding ticket.

"But listen to this!" Amy held up a letter written in purple glitter pen on pink paper. " _'Then we found out that the wax statues murdered Wax Stan, so_ they tried to kill us _, but we managed to melt them before they could. Except for Wax Sherlock Holmes, and he chased Dipper on to the roof of the Shack and dueled with him until the sun rose and melted him. So now all the wax figures are gone, except for the head of some guy named Larry King who lives in the vents now._ '"

She put the letter down and exhaled sharply, then covered her eyes with one hand. "Do you blame me? For thinking she was making it up?"

"Of course not," Aaron said. He took a sip of his coffee before returning it to the cup holder. "With the lack of any empirical evidence, it was the only logical conclusion."

"And this one." Amy brandished a pastel blue letter written in gold ink, adorned with stickers. "Here Mabel says that this kid named Gideon had a magical amulet that gave him telekinesis, and that he almost killed Dipper with a pair of shears!"

"Amy," Aaron said, trying for a soothing voice, hoping to calm her down, but she was on a roll.

"And how about this, where the kids went with a bunch of delinquent teenagers to break into an abandoned convenience store that turned out to be haunted? Mabel was possessed by _ghosts_ , Aaron! _Possessed!_ "

"Yes," said Aaron. "I remember that one. Didn't Dipper save her by doing the Lamby-Lamby dance?"

That brought Amy up short, and she turned to stare at him.

He glanced at her, smiling ruefully, before looking back at the stretch of freeway before them. "Poor Dipper," he said. "He must have been mortified. Twelve years old and dancing around in that ridiculous lamb costume…"

"It wasn't ridiculous," Amy said, slightly defensive, but Aaron could hear the little smile in her voice.

"Sure, when he was _six_. But now?"

There was a pause, and then Amy laughed, a low chuckle. "Well, that just shows you how far Dipper is willing to go for Mabel's sake," she said, then sighed, long and loud. "I can't believe this. I am a terrible mother."

"Why?" Aaron asked. "Because of something you couldn't possibly know of, or even imagine? What do you think either of us could have done to prevent any of this?"

"I could have not let them go," she said, without heat. "I could have kept them home for the summer and smothered them with over-protectiveness. I _can_ be over-protective, you know. Mom taught me well."

"Your mom drove you crazy, and you couldn't wait to graduate high school and move away from her," Aaron pointed out.

She tilted her head. "True."

Aaron took another sip of coffee. "So, let's tackle this one step at a time."

Amy snorted, and set the letters back in the box. "Okay. I suppose we _do_ need a plan, now that we're actually on the road and headed into the heart of darkness. I'm guessing one of the steps is to stop freaking out over Mabel's letters."

"Yeah," Aaron said. "If we spend the whole drive flagellating ourselves over how we didn't know that Gravity Falls is apparently Supernatural Central, it's going to be a long trip." He sat in silence for a moment, picking apart what he knew of Mabel's letters, and what he remembered from his own childhood trip to visit Uncle Stanford.

Who was actually Uncle Stanley. Who wasn't dead.

He had never met Uncle Stanford, he realized. Just Uncle Stanley pretending to be Stanford while he repaired an interdimensional portal in the basement to get Stanford back. And he had succeeded.

He wondered if Grandma Pines knew about this.

He remembered the gnomes (who apparently tried to kidnap Mabel to be their bride, what the hell). And he _did_ see Bigfoot.

 _You saw a whole lot more than you remember! Next time you're in town, ask about the Society of the Blind Eye!_

The demon's words echoed in his head, and left him far more unsettled than he wanted to admit. He wondered if, somewhere in the hidden rooms of the Gravity Falls museum, there was a memory tube with his name on it.

And if there was, did he even want to know what was on it?

Yes. Yes, he did. He wanted to know if his experiences compared to Mabel's and Dipper's. Had he done anything close to some of the crazy things his kids had done during the summer?

"So…" he continued. "Mabel didn't make up those stories. And yes, the kids were often in danger."

" _Mortal_ danger," Amy said.

"Mortal danger. But," he said, briefly releasing the steering to point an emphasizing finger, "the kids didn't die. And why not? Because they are strong, and brave, and clever, and resourceful."

"And _lucky_."

"That too." Aaron sighed. "The point is, we need to go through Mabel's letters, but instead of focusing on how their lives were in jeopardy, we need to focus on how they resolved the situations. How they _triumphed_. And instead of worrying ourselves to death, we need to spend our time having faith that Mabel and Dipper will know what to do with a demon on the loose."

Amy closed her eyes and swallowed. "I… I know. I _want_ to believe in them, Aaron. I do. But there's over five hundred miles and eight hours between us and them. So much can happen in that time, and I can't _help_ it. I can't help but be afraid for them."

Aaron understood her fear. He could try to ignore it, but it was there, festering in the pit of his gut. The absolute _need_ to save his children, and the dread that he would be too late.

 _Should he survive the night_ , the woman in his dream had said of Dipper. _Should he survive the night_.

Those words came abruptly to the forefront of his mind, and his confidence faltered.

It must have shown on his face, because Amy reached over and rested her hand on his leg. A gesture of comfort, and seeking comfort. He took one hand off the wheel and took her hand in his.

"They've beaten this thing twice before," he said, trying to convince himself as much as Amy. "They can do it again."

"And if they don't?" Amy whispered.

Aaron opened his mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say. He couldn't think about _if they don't_. Not now. Not yet.

"Let's…" He cleared his throat as his voice caught. "Let's have faith in the kids for now. Okay?"

Amy squeezed his hand, then let go.

"Okay," she said.

* * *

Mabel couldn't remember a time when she had seen Dipper quite so angry. Maybe it was because of his new body, because not only were his eyes narrowed in fury and his fists clenched at his sides, but his ears were laid back, he was stamping his forehooves, and huffing in agitation.

"I'll kill him," Dipper said, and he might have sounded threatening if his voice hadn't cracked on the word _kill_.

"Get in line," Mabel said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I already claimed first dibs." Grimacing, she looked around at the bloody clearing, now that the shock of finding herself back where Gideon had attacked had worn off. "I would have told you sooner, but things have kind of crazy."

Dipper looked at her sharply. "You still have that amulet I made you, right?"

"Of course." Mabel gestured to the backpack she was wearing. "The chain is broken, but there's no way I would lose something like that. It literally saved both me and Al from Gideon."

"Good," Dipper said, stamping his front hooves again. "I think we'll need it." He looked at the base of the tree where the blood from his fawn body had settled. "This is all his fault," he said, practically snarling. "Everything. The curse, killing me, _this_ …" He gestured down at himself, a faint look of disgust bleeding into his anger. "Look at me! My life is _ruined_ because of him!"

"Hey now," Mabel said, frowning. "None of that." She walked up to him and put her hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to calm down.

And as she did, she realized a few things. Though Dipper's human proportions seemed the same as before, he was a couple of inches taller than her now because of his long deer legs. His deer half still looked like a fawn with his reddish, spotted coat, and though he was a lot bigger than he had been as an infant fawn, he still seemed a bit gangly. Like the larger, healthy fawns she had seen in the woods as summer drew to a close. And yet, he also had antlers, like a yearling. Six points, three on each side, perfectly symmetrical, and free of velvet.

She wondered, was that normal for his species? Did Dipper even _have_ a species? Maybe he was something completely new and unique.

Well, none of that mattered right now. What mattered was getting Dipper back on track. "Your life isn't ruined, silly," she said, encouraged when Dipper didn't shrug off her hand.

"Easy for you to say," Dipper said, his voice tight with anger.

"Yeah, I know," Mabel said, and Dipper gave her an incredulous look. She shrugged. "I'm still just so happy you're _alive_ , I can't even begin to think about what you – what _we'll_ be dealing with in the future."

Dipper met her gaze then, and just beyond the anger, she could see the fear and hesitation in his eyes. She smiled at him. "Because I _will_ be with you, Dipper. Every step of the way, regardless of what happens. Okay?"

She watched as the anger slowly drained out of him. His ears drooped, and he looked away. "Okay," he said, "but… I need to tell you something."

Uh-oh. That was his _This is serious, Mabel, please don't take it lightly_ voice. "Sure," she said. "I'm all ears, Sir Dipping-sauce."

"Not here," Dipper said, looking around. He covered his nose with one hand, and gestured at the dead, gray thicket. "It reeks of blood and death, and it's giving me a headache."

Mabel nodded. She couldn't smell it like he could, apparently, but it was still pretty gross and creepy. "You know," she said, "that clump of dead trees and bushes wasn't like that before."

"Really?" Dipper looked at it again, his brow furrowing, and his fingers twitched as if itching to hold his pen and journal. Then he huffed. "We don't have time to investigate right now," he said, confirming her suspicions. "I want to come back when this is all over, though. That's _way_ not normal."

"Okay."

Dipper turned away from her and looked back. "Well?" he said, and though he looked grumpy, his cheeks were flushed. He looked at his deer backside, then back at her, and she realized he was telling her to get on.

She did so, with a lot less enthusiasm than she did the first time. She'd thought riding on Al's back was uncomfortable, but at least the dryad ran at a steady, even lope. Dipper _bounded_. After his first jump, he'd gone so high that she'd half-expected them to land with a devastating bone-breaking impact, but instead, it felt no more jarring than if he'd jumped over a small log. And though they somehow never ran into any obstacles, their speed was downright unearthly. She'd had to close her eyes and bury her head against his back, using his torso as a shield, because his leaps took them so far and so fast, the wind bit at her so hard she almost couldn't breathe.

Dipper noticed her hesitation as she climbed on, of course. His grumpy expression faded. "You okay?" he asked.

"Psssh, yeah, of course," she said, wrapping her arms around his chest. "The wind is a bit much, but if I stay ducked behind you, it doesn't bother me."

"Wind?" He sounded genuinely puzzled.

"Don't worry about it," she said. "Just go."

He gave her an uncertain look before starting a gentle trot. After a moment, he broke into a run, and then the _bounding_ began. The zero-g sensation she felt at the top of each arc was fun at first, but after about five minutes, it started getting old, and her stomach started to protest. Not to the point of puking, but still. Not pleasant.

"Mabel?" Dipper said, and it was only when she heard his voice that she realized that the wind wasn't roaring in her ears and buffeting her like a tattered flag the way it had before.

 _What the hey-hey?_

She lifted her head tentatively. There was still wind, but now, even though they were obviously going as fast as they had previously, it was a gentle breeze.

"Whoa," she said, amazed. "Are _you_ doing that?"

Dipper cast a quick glance at her over his shoulder. "Doing what?"

But she was speechless, because now she could see why they weren't running into any obstacles. The forest was literally parting for them. Trees, shrubs, brambles… they all moved to make way for Dipper. She looked behind them, and watched as they returned to their previous position. "Uh…" she said. " _That._ "

She felt Dipper heave a sigh under her embrace. "You're going to have to be more specific," he said, "because I don't—"

"Oh my gosh," Mabel exclaimed. "You can't be _that_ oblivious!"

"Hey!"

"The forest, doofus!" she said, exasperated. "It's moving out of the way to let you through! And before we hit the Gideon Attack Spot, the wind was so hard that it hurt. Now, though, the it's so soft I can barely feel it, and that only happened _after_ I mentioned it to you."

Dipper stopped bounding. And this time, when he stopped, she didn't slam into his back.

She slid off, wiggling her legs since they felt a little noodle-y from the ride. Dipper turned to her, rubbing one arm in a typical tell of anxiety, and she felt struck by the open look of fear on his face.

"It…" He swallowed. "It's not me. I'm not doing it."

She tilted her head at him. "Okay, then who, or what, is?"

His gaze grew unfocused. "I don't know."

Mabel sighed. _Denial._ "Look, bro-bro, there's no one else it could be. Why else would the wind be turned down just because I didn't like it? And look at where we are." She pointed. "I recognize that mountain shape, and it took Al about an hour to get from here to GAS."

Dipper blinked at her. "Gas?"

"Gideon Attack Spot," she said, and Dipper just snorted and looked away. He never did appreciate her acronyms. "Look, the point is, it took you, what, maybe ten minutes, if that, to go the same distance? We've come so far in such a short time, and it's because you're about a billion times faster than a real deer. You're probably doing it all subconsciously or something."

She was trying to be comforting, but if anything, Dipper looked even more horrified. "No," he said, and his voice shook. "I would _know_ , I _couldn't_ …"

"Couldn't what?" she said. "Break a few science rules without even thinking about it?" She sidled up to him and nudged him with her shoulder, trying to coax a smile out of him, or at least get that scared look off his face. "Come on, Dipper, it's not all that surprising you got some magic with your new body, considering who made it. And it's a whole lot cooler than making rave music with your antlers or something stupid like that."

But Dipper just put his head in his hands and groaned. "I can't believe this is happening."

Mabel heaved a frustrated sigh. "Stop being such a grumpy-grump," she said. "Look on the bright side! This is _cool!_ "

"This is _not_ cool, Mabel," Dipper said, looking up at her, and Mabel was startled to see a faint sheen of wetness in his eyes. "I told you I need to tell you something."

Mabel's irritation at Dipper's lack of enthusiasm over his cool powers faded under a wave of concern, and she sobered. "Okay," she said. "What is it?"

"I…" Dipper clenched his fists. "It's complicated." Mabel bristled momentarily under the implication that she was too simple to understand, but Dipper clarified, "I'm trying to figure out how to put it into words." He began to pace nervously in a tight circle, looking at the ground. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head, and stayed silent so he could think.

Finally, he stopped and turned to her. "Okay," he said, taking a steadying breath. "Remember when Mom and Dad took us to Ocean Beach to watch the sea lions on the rocks?"

She nodded.

"Right," Dipper continued. "Remember how they wouldn't let us go near the water, even though we're both really good swimmers?"

"Yeah," Mabel said, "because Ocean Beach has a killer rip tide. _Literally_." Every now and then the Bay Area news would tell of some tourist, or even some local surfer who knew the water, getting sucked miles out to sea and drowning before help could reach them. Sometimes the rip tide claimed more than one victim, drowning the person who went in the ocean trying to save another. Worse, the rip tide was most dangerous where the water seemed the calmest. People would wade into the water, not realizing that the undertow could knock them off their feet and sweep them away in moments.

"Okay," Dipper said. "Now, pretend that the part of me from before, the human part of me that has all my memories and experiences - the part of me that is _me -_ is a person standing on that beach next to the water."

Mabel nodded hesitantly, understanding that Dipper was trying to make the beach into a metaphor. She imagined human Dipper standing at the edge of the surf, the water lapping at his feet.

"Well, now there's this _new_ part of me," Dipper said. "A part that came with this new body, that wasn't any part of me before. And that's the ocean."

Mabel felt her eyes widen as a glimmer of understanding struck her.

Dipper continued. "The ocean is huge, nearly endless, we can only see a tiny part of it before it vanishes over the horizon." He looked down and pressed his hands over his stomach. "And… it's inside of me. I don't understand it. I don't know what it is. I don't know how it works. I just know that I'm standing at the edge of it, and if I get too close…" He trailed off and met her gaze, and for the first time, Mabel thought she understood the fear in his eyes.

"If you get too close," she said, "if you go too far, it will pull you under. And the you that is _you_ … will drown in it."

Dipper nodded, a hint of relief in his expression as he saw that she understood. "Exactly."

She stepped forward and took both his hands in hers and pulled him close. "I won't let it," she said firmly, and she was surprised when tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she ignored it. "I won't let it suck you under. I won't let you drown. I promise."

And Dipper looked at the ground, but she could see his lips trembling, his eyes blinking rapidly. It was a long moment before he looked up again, and his eyes were dry and full of gratitude. His ears lifted and turned forward.

"Mystery Twins forever?" he said.

She let out a loud, watery laugh. "Mystery Twins forever," she said, releasing his hands and holding up a fist.

The corner of his mouth turned up into a smile, and while it wasn't full-fledged, she would take it. He fist-bumped her, and their hands separated, fingers splayed as they made explosion noises.

"Okay," Dipper said, sounding a lot more like his usual self. "That… actually was a lot easier than I thought it would be."

"See?" Mabel snickered. "This is all new and strange, but together we can handle it. So, are you going to be okay, knowing that you're accidentally doing weird forest magic?"

Dipper grimaced. "I don't know if _okay_ is the right word. But maybe now that I'm aware of what I'm doing, I can control it better?" He sounded uncertain.

"Maybe." Mabel shrugged. "But even if you can't right away, try not to get too worked up over it. I've got your back, and I won't let that rip tide get you."

Dipper's smile grew slightly. "Thanks, Mabel."

"Pshaw," Mabel said, flapping a hand at him to go with her exaggerated accent. "Twernt nothin'."

Dipper actually laughed. She cheered inwardly at the small victory.

He turned, and gestured for her to climb onto his back with only a trace of his previous self-consciousness. She grinned, and did so, once again wrapping her arms around his chest.

"Now," she said, pointing forward, "let's go stop Bill from starting his apocalypse!"

This time when Dipper bounded forward, seeming to defy all natural laws of physics, she let out a whoop of exhilaration.

* * *

Wendy didn't have to see the grim looks on Ford's and Stan's faces to know that the siege was definitely _not_ going in their favor.

More than half the town was upstairs and outside the Shack, with a steady stream of people shuffling down the road to join them. Whatever Bill had done to them when he hypnotized them had made them ruthlessly efficient. They had already eliminated the barrier around the door to the basement, having formed a long line, passing the barrier, piece by piece, down the line until it was nothing more than a huge pile of junk piled outside the Shack. The obstacles in the stairway were next, and they were almost all gone. Soon, they would reach the inoperable elevator, but with Bill pulling their strings, she couldn't see that even that would be much of a deterrent.

To make things worse, a group of townsfolk had gathered to the side of the Shack and had dug a hole to the cement foundation, and were in the process of chiseling a hole in it. When Ford realized what was happening, he informed them of the hole that Dipper had fallen through, chasing his 38-sided die. Soos had finished patching it up a few days ago, but apparently Bill knew about it, and was exploiting that weakness.

Every single person that Wendy cared about, apart from Dipper and Mabel, were out there. Her friends, her dad, her brothers – Bill had put them all on the front lines, deliberately, no doubt. They were all crowded in the stairwell, passing portal debris up and out of the Shack.

Soos' abuelita was part of group digging through to the foundation, and Soos was nearly beside himself with fear for her. "She's going to hurt herself," he said tearfully. "She has bad knees, and her hip bothers her sometimes! She shouldn't be out there digging!"

But there was nothing any of them could do, except watch and wait helplessly. Wendy found herself caught between sickly terror, and ice-cold rage. She wanted to punch something so bad right now. Preferably Bill-possessed-Gideon, right in his smug, pudgy face.

"Wendy, come here," Stan called. Wendy pulled herself away from the monitors in the control room, and went into the portal room.

Stan and Ford had both seen better days. Ford was grimy and bloody, still wearing the shreds of his sweater and his pants torn out at the knees. Stan was leaning heavily on his shovel, sweating, panting, looking like a feather could knock him over, but still, he straightened when she walked up to them.

"Look around," Ford said, gesturing at the dirt floor. "Can you tell where we buried the rift?"

Wendy looked down, and found herself impressed. She expected to see a flattened mound of freshly turned earth giving away the rift's position. Instead, she saw that Ford and Stan had not only buried the rift, they had turned up dirt over the entire floor, effectively disguising the rift's burial spot.

"Not with my eyes," she said, "but I saw you digging the hole, and I know it's right about there." She pointed to a spot a few feet away from the elder twins.

Ford nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I see. Well, that's good, and bad."

"Why bad?" she asked.

Ford sighed. "With the situation progressing like it is, it's no longer a matter of _if_ the townsfolk will reach us, but _when_. I think there is a great possibility that we will be captured and taken to Bill, and he will do whatever he can to get the location of the rift out of us."

Wendy grit her teeth at the implication, a knot forming in her gut, and Stan nodded. "It's like I told you earlier, kid," he said. "He'll use our loved-ones against us. And how long do you think you can hold out in not revealing the rift's location, when he's hurting your family and friends?"

"He won't _need_ to threaten our loved-ones, Stanley," Ford said. "All he has to do is hypnotize any one of us, and we'll lead him right to it."

"Oh," Stan said, and then his eyes narrowed. "Wait, you mean to say that we just spent over an hour digging up the floor, for _nothing?_ Bill can find out where the rift is just by asking, and we'll just tell him?"

"Aaargh!" Wendy sank to her knees and snarled. "This is so unfair!" she shouted, and punched the ground. It didn't hurt enough, so she punched it again. "So you're saying that, after everything we've done, Bill is _still_ going to win?"

"Not necessarily," Ford said. "Calm down, you two. There may still be a way to buy ourselves and your friends some time."

Wendy looked up at him. "How?"

"Follow me." Ford walked toward the control room. She exchanged a skeptical look with Stan, and then they followed.

There was a small junk room just off the corridor that led to the elevator. It was littered with all sorts of half-finished experiments and weapons. Ford opened a drawer and pulled out an item that Wendy recognized instantly.

"Hey, that's a memory gun," she said, and suddenly she understood what Ford's plan was. "Wait just a sec. You want to erase the rift's location _from our brains?_ "

Ford gave her an appraising look, as if surprised she had deduced his plan. "Exactly."

"But won't that just make Bill mad?" Wendy asked. "What's to keep Bill from hurting my family when he realizes that we can't tell him?"

Ford shook his head. "I know Bill, unfortunately. If he finds out that we are literally incapable of giving him the location of where we've hidden the rift, he'll have no reason to torture anyone to extract information. The townsfolk will be far more useful to him as thralls, because, without the exact location of the rift, he will be forced to have them tear the Shack apart piece by piece to find it."

Stan frowned. "I hate to throw a wrench in your plan, Poindexter, but so far it still ends with Bill getting his hands on the rift."

"Maybe," Ford said. "Maybe not."

"Just spit it out," Stan said irritably. "What part of this plan haven't you told us yet?"

Wendy nodded. "Yeah, so far this plan sounds like it ends with all of us as hypnotized zombies, tearing down the Shack with everyone else."

Ford sighed. "I… have a metal plate in my head." Before Wendy could even respond to that, Ford raised his fist and knocked against his skull, producing an unmistakable metallic clang.

Wendy saw Stan's jaw sag open in astonishment, and thought her expression might just mirror his exactly.

"What the hell, Sixer!" Stan said. "Why do you have a metal plate in your head?"

"I had it installed while I was in Dimension 52," Ford said, fidgeting uncomfortably under their combined stares. "It keeps Bill from having access to my mind. It also keeps this-" He held up the memory gun. "—from working on me. I couldn't erase my memories of the rift's location even if I wanted to. But if I'm right, it will also prevent Bill from being able to hypnotize me."

"How is that a good thing?" Wendy exclaimed. "Then he'll just use torture to get the rift's location out of _you!_ "

She looked to Stan for backup, but to her surprise, he was nodding thoughtfully. "I see," he said, and he had a familiar glint in his eye that Wendy recognized all too well. "You're planning to fake it."

Ford nodded. "Precisely."

"Wait, what?" Wendy said.

Ford gave her a patient look that rankled her a little. "Bill can't put me under his power, but if I pretend that I'm as hypnotized as everyone else, this plan could work. If we buy enough time, the sun will rise, and Bill will weaken substantially. If I can somehow break his hold on the townsfolk, we could take him down."

"Huh. That's three too many _ifs_ for my liking," Stan grumbled.

Ford shrugged helplessly. "It's the best plan I've got. I'm open to suggestions."

Stan rubbed his hands over his face, then looked at Wendy. "What do you think about this?" he asked.

Wendy didn't like it. Not at all. First, she didn't want that memory gun messing with her head. Second, this seemed like merely a delay tactic, with no guarantee of success. Third, she had no idea if Ford was a good enough actor to pull off such an act. Fourth… She couldn't think of a fourth, but there was probably another very good reason this was a really bad idea.

Still… if she had to choose between her family being tortured so she'd give up the rift's location, and the faint possibility that she could keep that from happening… if there was a chance to postpone Bill finding the rift, giving them time to figure out a way to take him down…

"I guess it's okay," she said, shrugging.

Ford smiled. "That's the spirit. Now let's put this plan into action."

* * *

Dipper slowed, then came to a stop as they reached a part of the forest that he knew like the back of his hand. They were about a mile away from the Shack, and yet… he could hear, could _smell_ the multitude of people surrounding it.

Mable slid off his back and tumbled to the ground, laughing. "Woo!" she said, "that was amazing! I can't believe how fast you can go! It's so much more fun without the wind blasting in my face!"

"Shhh," he said, putting up a hand as he strained to listen, to smell what was up ahead. Mabel quieted and came to stand next to him. "Wow, I think… I think half the town must be at the Shack."

"What?" Mabel said. "How can you tell?"

"I can hear them," Dipper said, his brow creased. "It's weird. Nobody is saying anything. They're all just…" He tilted his head, his ears swiveling. "…kind of shuffling around, banging on things."

Mabel touched his arm, and he could feel her sudden nervousness. "Can you tell if Bill is there?"

Dipper inhaled, letting scents fill him, his new instincts sorting them easily. After a few moments, he shook his head. "I don't smell him anywhere nearby." he said. "He's definitely not at the Shack. Maybe he's still in town mesmerizing people."

"Whoa," Mabel said, eyes wide. "How do you know what Bill smells like?"

Dipper shrugged. "It's more that I know what Gideon's vampire form smells like," he said. "When you and Alejandra had me in your backpack and took me out of the Shack, I got a good whiff of him. He was hiding up in the trees."

"That's why you freaked out," Mabel said quietly. "So… he was following us that whole time."

"I guess so." Dipper clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to keep his temper from rising, but he couldn't quite keep from stomping a forehoof. He would have time to be angry later. "Get the amulet ready," he said, and Mable nodded, slipping off her backpack and pulling it from the inside of a zipper pocket.

"Got it," she said, and she showed him her fist clenched around the gold chain, the small vial amulet pinched between her thumb and forefinger.

He nodded, and gestured for her to climb back on his back. It still felt strange and unnatural to have a rider, but he was getting used to it. Only because it was Mabel, though. "Come on," he said. "I don't know how long we have before Bill gets there, but this may be our only chance. We need to save as many people as we can."

Mabel climbed back on, wrapped her arms around his chest, and he took off running, silent and swift. Before long, they were at the tree line. The whole clearing around the Shack was full of people, all looking blank and numb, but working with swift efficiency. There was a large group digging at the side of the Shack, and an even bigger group had formed a line and was emptying the Shack of, well, pretty much everything. Aside from a huge pile of portal debris, Dipper could see that the gift shop had been completely trashed, as well as the museum, if the pile of broken souvenirs and mangled attractions was any indication. As he watched, a group of men were in the process of carrying the kitchen fridge out the back door.

"Oh my gosh," Mabel whispered. "Look at all of them!"

Dipper pointed to the side of the Shack where the group of people were digging a giant hole around the foundation. "They're trying to get into the basement," he said. "That must be where Grunkle Stan and Great Uncle Ford are holed up." Dipper looked over his shoulder at Mabel. "You ready?"

Mabel nodded, her expression resolving into what Dipper thought of as her _battle face_. "Let's do this," she said.

Without another word, Dipper burst out from the tree line and ran toward the group of people trying to break through the Shack's foundation. He slowed, giving Mabel time to reach out and tap people with the amulet. With each tap, he could see the familiar faces of the residents of Gravity Falls, their eyes clearing from Bill's mind control.

"You're free," Mabel said with each tap. "And you're free! And _you're_ free! Oh my gosh, Soos' abuelita! _You're_ free!" And so on.

"Go on," Dipper shouted, as people stood, wide awake, but looking around in shock and fear. "Run! Get away, hide! Gideon is coming back, now is your chance to escape!"

That managed to get people in motion, and soon, the ones they had released from control were scrambling to get away from the Shack. Soon, the entire group that had been attacking the foundation was making haste to leave.

Dipper turned, and was about to head to the line of people going in and out of the Shack, when suddenly Mabel shrieked, and was lifted straight up, off his back. Before he could even react, or even call her name, something slammed hard into his side and forced him to the ground.

In that moment, instinct took over.

He fought with everything he had, lashing out with his sharp hooves, thrashing his head. He knew he connected with flesh, knew he had injured someone, but his attackers didn't make a sound. There were too many strong hands pinning him down, and he felt his hind legs being bound.

"No!" he shouted, and fought with hooves and fists and antlers, but then his arms were wrenched behind his back and restrained, as his front legs were also bound. Still, he fought with all he had until someone grabbed him by the antlers and forced his head to the ground.

He lay there, cheek pressed hard against the dirt, panting, still struggling futilely against the strong arms and binds that held him, and he finally saw that his attackers were none other than Gideon's prison goons. Some of them were bleeding from cuts and gouges from his struggles. Even so, they looked as blank and brainwashed as the rest of the townsfolk.

"You bastards," he snarled. "Where's Mabel?"

Then, from the corner of his one open eye, Dipper caught a glimpse of a writhing black shadow, and before he could even wonder why he couldn't smell it, the thing spoke.

" _WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL! WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE?"_

* * *

A/N: So… there's that.

I haven't proof-read yet, so apologies for any typos or errors.

Very Important: A shout-out to all you wonderful people who left comments on since I posted chapter 8. I feel like a total loser for not responding to you each individually, but I hope you know I love and appreciate you all the same. ImpossibleJedi4, KuroNekoo, Jeminbee, Luthyx, Sir Thames, MaiKanon, Radio Driver, cubeGame, Sky, Blind-Eyephone, toolman19, Brenne, Purest of the Hearts, geohvod, Allotrios, gump1098, Fenrir Wylde Razgriz, Kimagurakihara, Dog Child, SmolBean, and all the lovely Guests. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. :D

So, there are two, maybe three more chapters in this fic. I hope you all are enjoying it so far. Please leave a comment if you want to make me deliriously happy. :)


	11. Chapter 11

Ain't No Cure for the Cervitaur Blues  
A Gravity Falls Fanfic  
by Krista Perry  
I own nothing.

* * *

Chapter Eleven  
 _In Which We Reach the Climax of the Tale_

* * *

Bill decided that, as far as meat sacks went, vampires were actually a step down from humans. Living human flesh felt so many things, from barely noticeable air pressure to the exquisite agony that came with piercing said flesh with a multitude of sharp objects, or breaking bones and tearing at the insides.

Vampires, on the other hand, barely had any pain receptors in their undead meat. He had discovered this when he had experimentally snapped all the fingers in Gideon's left hand. There was, disappointingly, little pain. Gideon's reaction, however, had been priceless.

Gideon's disembodied soul was still dutifully floating after him when he had bent the pinky finger back until it broke, and the kid had cringed so violently, he sent himself spinning backward end over end. "What are you… _did you just break my finger?_ "

"Sure did!" Bill said, and looked Gideon right in the eye as he grinned and snapped the ring finger at the mid-knuckle joint.

It was difficult for a spirit to look like he was ready to puke, but somehow Gideon managed it. "Could you please… not do that?" he asked weakly.

Bill responded by snapping the fingertip bone of the middle finger. "No wonder you made such a lousy vampire, kid! This doesn't even really hurt! Not to mention, this will heal up in no time! How do you expect to live forever if a little thing like this makes you lose your nerve?"

And there it was again. That brief, guilty look on Gideon's face that spoke of treachery. A look that said he had no desire whatsoever to reclaim his undead meat sack.

Oh well! Gideon could have provided an entertaining diversion in Weirdmageddon, but if the kid couldn't hack it, he could stay trapped in the mindscape forever. It was no skin off his nose!

 _Skin off his nose!_ Bill looked cross-eyed at the upturned piggy nose, and considered digging in his claws and ripping it off to turn the metaphor into reality… but, _ugh_ , if Gideon was really going to trail after him while he enslaved Gravity Falls, he could do without the whining that would cause. Normally the sounds of human suffering were sweet, sweet music, but that was when there was actual human suffering involved. Gideon's disembodied groans and whimpers over trivialities hardly qualified.

The first stop on the enslavement tour was the Northwest Mansion, of course. It was at the far east outskirts of Gravity Falls, opposite the Mystery Shack, and he wanted to make sure that everyone there – especially Preston, the pretentious twit – made it to the Shack in time to witness his ultimate victory. He was disappointed in the lackluster resistance the household offered. Not only was he able to get a servant to invite him in, giving him full access to everyone inside, but the only person who put up even a little bit of a fight was Llama Girl, and she was quickly disarmed of her holy water squirt gun by her own hypnotized mother.

After that, the rest of the conquest went quickly. It was painfully easy to get the attention the people sleeping in their homes. A knock on the door or a tap on the window, and the suckers all ended up looking him right in the eyes.

The town was dark, save for the few street lamps. The crescent moon had set, deepening the darkness, but the sky was clear, and Bill could feel stars staring down at him. No doubt blazing in fear, knowing that they would not escape the scope of Weirdmageddon, once he finally got his party started.

And that stupid creature who was calling herself _Mother of the Wood_ these days. He was really looking forward to seeing her crumble before him when he took a big bite out this world, right down to its molten core. All the gods and creatures of power in this dimension, from this tiny planet to the outer reaches of the universe, were miniscule, less than amoebas when compared to what he would become when he ripped the veil into his realm of madness.

As for this vampire body, well, if Gideon didn't want it back, he'd just destroy it with a snap of his fingers. Sure, it was useful _now_. The shadow was particularly handy, and he wrapped it around himself like a shield – something Gideon could have done to prevent himself from being skewered by a dryad if only he had been clever and strong enough. Bill could even use the shadow to make himself utterly invisible if he wanted. He could prevent sound and scent from escaping his personal darkness, making him completely untraceable. Even woodland creatures or entities with enhanced senses couldn't detect him if he didn't want them to, making them easy prey.

He was certainly making more efficient use of the shadow than any earthly vampire had ever managed, but that's because they were stupid. The oldest of them was just a mere few thousand years old. _He_ was older than this dimension itself. Yes, it was true that vampires drew on the powers of darkness, which came from the deep places under the earth and the void between the stars, blah blah blah. They still had to feed on blood to keep their dead flesh from withering away, and in the end, they just weren't powerful enough to matter.

Vampires, overall, were boring and simplistic. And as long as he was in a vampire meat bag, he was as restricted as they were. Sure, he could create an army of thralls and give them simple instructions like "Go to the Mystery Shack and tear it apart piece by piece until you find the rift," and "Subdue and capture any inhabitants." But finer control of his slaves was frustratingly limited. He could see through the eyes of any of his slaves and control them like a remote puppet, but he could only do it with one person at a time.

The only thing that being in this vampire body did for him was make him all the more eager to finally get access to his _real_ power.

As Bill worked his way through the town, it did not escape his notice that Gideon kept disappearing for a few minutes every now and then. More than once, he caught the kid slipping out of a house he hadn't conquered yet, looking despondent and depressed. Bill frowned. Were he in the mindscape, or scrying from the roiling madness of his decaying dimension, he'd know exactly what the idiot was up to. In his current state, he could only guess.

Fortunately, he was very good at guessing. Millenia of watching pathetic humans go about their daily lives had ensured that. And he had watched this particular brat for a _long_ time.

"So, Gideon!" he said, when the kid had returned from one particularly unsubtle disappearance. "Where do you keep running off to?"

Gideon's eyes darted about. "Uh… nowhere, Bill. Just… um, looking around, you know. Exploring." He tapped his pointer fingers together nervously.

"Really!" Bill sneered. "Because it looked to me like you were trying to get ahead of me and, oh, I don't know, _warn some people I was headed their direction!_ "

Bill was almost impressed at how good Gideon was at covering his panic with a cheerful façade. "What? No, no, of course not! Why would I try and do that? I mean, it's not like anyone can see me… or hear me…"

"No matter how loud you scream in their ears?" Bill laughed, long and loud at the stricken look on Gideon's face. "Oh, kid, you crack me up! I hate to break it to you, but it's a bit late for you to try and be a hero!"

Gideon frowned and looked away. "I'm no hero," he said glumly.

"You can say that again!" Oh, this kid was a riot. Maybe he'd keep him around for the party once he got the rift, if only to make him squirm.

"Does… does it hurt them when you hypnotize them?" Gideon asked tentatively.

Bill rolled his eyes. "You're seriously worried about that? Relax! Mind control is perfectly painless!" Before Gideon could look too relieved, he continued. "Of course, once they are under my control, they are trapped in their own heads, helpless and fully aware while they carry out my commands!"

Gideon gave him a startled look. "Fully aware?"

"That's right!" Bill grinned like a shark. "And boy, are they entertaining! Some of them sulk, some of them cry, some of them scream, all within the confines of their own heads! Be glad you can't hear them! It's a madhouse!"

Gideon shuddered, almost imperceptibly, and Bill laughed darkly. "Look, kid, there's only one winner in this scenario, and you're staring at him! Now is not a good time to start feeling regret! Stick with me, embrace your bad side and reap the benefits, or join the other losers!" Bill flew right up into Gideon's face and looked him in the eyes. "Time to choose!"

Gideon looked back at him and managed to force a smile that almost looked genuine. "I'm with you, Bill."

Bill wasn't fooled, but he had to give credit to the kid for the effort. "Good choice!" he said, backing off. "Now, keep up!"

Gideon stuck with him after that, silent and watchful. Soon the narrow streets of the town were filled with useful idiots, all headed for the Mystery Shack.

Bill was still tracking down the last few living residents when the first group of townsfolk reached the Shack. He felt them arrive at their destination, a vague sense of partial success at carrying out his orders drifting through his link with them.

Curious, he took direct control of Manly Dan Corduroy, who was trailing at the end of the first group, followed by his three equally-enslaved young sons. Manly Dan was _raging_ within his head, furious beyond all reason at being so completely hijacked, cursing Bill with surprising creativity.

Bill just laughed at him. " _Hey, if you don't like it, big guy, I can always hop into one of your boys!_ "

Manly Dan fell silent, seething with anger. Bill relished the emotion, letting it wash through him. There was something delightfully twisted about possessing Gideon's body, then using its vampiric power to possess someone else. Bonus possession!

Actually, it was more like remote control, but hey, technicalities. And this was one technicality he intended to exploit to its fullest.

Bill headed straight for the Shack, passing the other slaves with great strides, then stopped just outside the barrier. Then, with great theatricality, he stepped across it. _No interdimensional demonic power here_ , he thought. _Just a lowly vampire doing vampire things_. Grinning wide and wild, he walked into the Gift Shop.

Unsurprisingly, the Gift Shop was full of junk – and not just the merchandise. Huge pieces of metal from the dismantled portal blocked the way to the basement stairs, along with old furniture, cinder blocks, chunks of concrete, a toilet and a washing machine, old tires, the Pitt Cola machine, the ice cooler, with firewood and other smaller pieces of junk to fill in the cracks. It was one massive blockade, and ol' Sixer couldn't have spelled out _I'm hiding out in the basement with the rift_ any clearer.

Satisfied, he snapped back to himself, his body hovering above the town square. He sent out another mass command - simple instructions for his thralls: " _Clear the barrier in the Gift Shop. Reach the stairs. Get into the basement. Capture Ford and his companions. Find the rift._ "

Gideon was hovering in the air next to him, staring.

"What?" he asked.

"N-nothing," Gideon stammered, looking away. "Just… you kind of went all quiet and still there for a minute."

"Just taking care of some business, kid. Nothing for you to worry about."

"Oh." Gideon didn't look convinced. "Okay, then."

Gideon didn't say much after that, as Bill worked on getting the rest of the townsfolk out of bed and off to do his bidding, but he kept giving Bill puzzled glances, as if wanting to ask some questions.

Bill ignored him. He was too close to complete victory to worry about whatever was on Gideon's mind at the moment.

Then, just when Bill thought the night couldn't get any better, he tracked down Blubs and Durland, sitting in their patrol car at their usual speed trap. Durland was on the phone, and Bill dropped down to the roof of the car to eavesdrop. And who should the dippy deputy be talking to but Amy and Aaron Pines, who had called the police because they were concerned about the welfare of their children!

Oh, this was _perfect!_ There was no way he was going to pass up this opportunity. After sending the two idiot police officers on their way, he picked up the phone and had a nice little chat with the Pines parents. The pure panic and terror in their voices was just hilarious! And just to make sure they knew exactly who they were dealing with, he sent a little pulse of his demonic energy through the connection. Ha! That would bring them running for sure! And with the party he had planned, well. The more the merrier!

Everything was going perfectly. Not bad, considering the evening had started out with Sixer escaping his clutches and ruining his careful plan. But he was nothing if not adaptable.

And it seemed that his adaptability needed to come into play again because, not long after talking to their parents, who should come bursting out of the forest and start freeing his slaves from his control but Pine Tree and Shooting Star themselves.

Physically, Bill was still in town, but he felt the disturbance as, one after another, he lost his link to several of his slaves. Irritated, he projected into the person closest to the disruption - Thompson, one of Red's stupid friends who was curled up and whimpering in his head - and watched through the kid's eyes as the rescue attempt went down.

And, for the first time in _eons_ , he found himself completely stunned as he watched the twins, because in all the scenarios he had predicted where Shooting Star and Pine Tree returned to the Shack, none of them included Pine Tree looking like _that_.

 _I… was not expecting this._

So rare was the occasion that Bill was left completely at a loss, he allowed himself a few moments to appreciate the sensation.

Then he decided he didn't like that sensation at all, and mentally shoved it away.

 _Well, well, well_. He was impressed in spite of himself. Somehow, that wretched Woman had… well, not _broken_ an unbreakable curse, but at least _cracked_ it somehow, because Pine Tree was now a _hilarious_ mishmash of human and deer.

Oh. Oh, this was _funny!_ Okay, so the kid obviously had all his brain functions back, but Bill couldn't find it in himself to care. Not when that Woman, in her effort to break the curse, had made things so much worse! Insecure, self-conscious Pine Tree was a complete freak! Aside from the fact that the kid was a fawn from the waist down, running around on four legs instead of two, he had long, furry ears, a little black deer nose, and antlers growing out of his skull. And Shooting Star was riding on his back like he was a beast of burden! Could it _get_ any better?

Forget enslaving the rest of the townsfolk. He had to go see this in person.

Flipping his consciousness back to Gideon's body, he wrapped his shadow tightly around him – no reason to give Pine Tree and his little deer nose a heads-up to his presence – then sped toward the Shack with Gideon trailing silently behind him.

As he drew closer, however, he suddenly felt _something_ so unexpected and out-of-place that he paused in mid-flight.

Power. It washed over him like a wave.

 _What is_ this _?_

Being taken completely by surprise two times in as many minutes might have made him angry, were this not such an intriguing development.

He could _feel_ power coming from the area around the Shack. He could almost taste it, it was so strong. But he couldn't identify it, or pinpoint the source. He projected himself back into Thompson, and saw Pine Tree trotting around with Shooting Star on his back. (Okay, that would never _not_ be hilarious.) And… Ah. _There_. The girl held some kind of talisman in her hand, and was using it to free his slaves from his mind control. Was that the source?

Interesting. Where had this talisman come from? Had that Woman given it to those kids in a futile effort to thwart him?

Jumping back to Gideon's body again, he started moving, slower – not with caution, but with curiosity. This power felt deliciously wild, chaotic and untamed. More important, this power felt like something _new_. When was the last time he had encountered something _new_ on this miserable little mudball of a world? Or even this dimension?

He decided right then that he _wanted_ it. It didn't even come close to the power he would have once the rift opened the pathway to his nightmare realm… but new power was interesting, _exciting_. He wanted to study it, take it apart and see what made it tick, and discover why he had never encountered it before.

Invisible within his shadow, he emerged from the trees into the Shack clearing and watched as Shooting Star freed the thralls that were digging into the Shack basement, touching each one with the talisman…

 _Wait…_

Bill's eyes narrowed, then widened as realization hit him.

The talisman wasn't the source of the power he felt.

 _Pine Tree_ was.

Well, Bill thought, a slow, sharp grin crawling over his face. Wasn't this just _wonderful._

Just then, Gideon flew up to hover beside Bill, and his eyes bulged at the sight below him. "Oh my _lord_ ," he squeaked. "What in the world happened to Dipper?!"

"What indeed?" Bill said, his eyes gleaming. Then, sending instructions to a few of his thuggish thralls, he directed a coordinated attack against Pine Tree, and swooped down personally to pluck Shooting Star right off the kid's back, restraining her with his shadow.

* * *

Ford lowered the memory gun and looked at Wendy with concern as she raised one hand to press against her forehead.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Soos hadn't reacted at all when the memory gun had erased his memory of where the rift was hidden.

Wendy frowned. "I guess," she said. "I mean, I feel like I didn't forget anything important, but then how would I know?" She looked at the memory gun in his hands, her expression screwing up in distaste. "You're destroying that thing as soon as we're done, right? Because I can't say I'm thrilled that something that could wipe my mind is just kicking around down here."

Ford nodded. "I think that would be for the best, yes. But right now, I want you to think. Do you remember where we hid the rift?"

Wendy's brow furrowed for a moment, before she shook her head. "Not a clue. Man, that's freaky."

"Try not to worry about it," Ford said, then turned to Stanley, who stepped forward, rubbing the back of his neck.

"My turn, I guess," Stanley said. "Let's get this over with. Wendy's right, that thing gives me the creeps."

Ford raised the memory gun, pointed it at Stanley's head… and paused at the surprising twisting sensation in his chest.

It was a feeling he had grown familiar with over the past thirty years of traversing dimensions, and it usually involved doing some life-altering act, similar or near exact to something one of his parallel-dimension selves had done.

Some other-dimensional Ford had pointed a memory gun at Stanley's head, he realized. Why? Was it under these exact set of circumstances? He couldn't even begin to imagine any other reason he might have for erasing any part of Stanley's memory…

… unless it was one of those Fords who had been utterly consumed by madness and paranoia. What might one of those Fords have done to Stanley? He suppressed a shudder. Some things didn't even bear contemplation.

Or maybe a parallel Ford shot Stanley with the memory gun for a good reason, like the one they had now? But what if something went wrong? What if the gun malfunctioned and did irreparable damage to Stanley's mind? What if-

"Are we doing this, or are you just gonna keep staring at me?" Stanley said irritably, and Ford startled.

"Sorry," he said, double-checking the gun's settings to make sure it still read _LOCATION OF THE RIFT._

Then he froze as he heard a loud click, the sudden hum of warming machinery, and the squeal of gears in need of oiling.

"Oh no," he said, just as Soos came running into the portal room.

"Dudes!" Soos said, his face pale. "The zombie townsfolk bypassed the basement circuit and got the elevator working! It's going up to get them right now!"

"Don't panic, Soos," Wendy said, and Ford noted that, though she seemed relaxed, she was in a fighting stance. "It's a small elevator. They can only come down a few at a time, and we can take them, probably even without hurting them too bad."

"Come on, Sixer," Stanley said, pulling Ford's attention away from the imminent invasion. "We're running out of time. Get the rift's location out of my head already."

Ford looked at him, stomach churning in apprehension. "What… what if you faked it, like I'm going to? I know you could pull it off, Stanley. Probably better than I can."

Stanley's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but before he could say anything, Wendy spoke up. "What's up with that, dude?" she said, glaring at him. "You didn't have any problem pulling the trigger on Soos and me, but you've got cold feet with Stan?"

"It's not that," Ford protested.

"It doesn't matter what it is," Stanley said firmly. "You gotta do this, Ford. Or did you miss the part where Wendy convinced Bill that I wasn't even here so that he wouldn't torture _you_ to get the rift outta _me?_ " Stanley folded his arms over his chest. "I'm not too proud to say I don't got the will power to keep silent while my family gets hurt. Now hurry up and shoot me with that thing before they get down here."

Ford lowered his eyes, looking at the memory gun. "Fine," he said quietly. Then, taking a deep breath, he raised the gun and pointed it at Stanley's head. Again, he felt that strange, twisting sense of impossible familiarity. He couldn't think about it. He just had to do it. Closing his eyes and flinching away, he pulled the trigger.

A few moments later, and Stanley harrumphed. "That was it?" he said, and Ford opened his eyes. "All that fuss over a little itchy feeling in my head?" Stanley walked over and clapped him on the shoulder, half grinning. "You're getting soft, Ford."

Ford couldn't help the swell of relief. "Maybe I am," he said. "So, Stanley, where's the rift?"

Stanley frowned thoughtfully, looking around. "I don't know, but from the looks of things, we buried it somewhere down here. Either that, or all this over-turned dirt is one hell of a red herring."

Ford nodded. "Excellent. Now, let's go greet our visitors."

The four of them walked back into the control room, and Ford closed the portal room door behind them. They stood together, looking at the elevator at the other end of the room. The indicator showed that it was still at the first floor.

They waited.

The elevator stayed on the first floor.

They waited.

The elevator didn't move.

"Ugh, will they just get down here already?" Wendy snapped. "What are they waiting for?"

"Instructions from Bill?" Ford guessed. "Though I don't know why he would wait to send them down."

"Unless he's got something sneaky planned," Stanley said, his expression sour.

"I've no doubt of that," Ford said. "But anything that delays him getting the rift is in our fav—"

He cut off as the lights flickered briefly.

Soos shifted nervously. "You don't think they're going to cut the power down here, do you?"

"That would be exceedingly foolish," Ford said, looking around at the other machinery. "Bill wants to find the rift, he can't enter the house with the barrier, and unless there's something you haven't told me, none of the townsfolk can see in the dark."

Then he saw the surveillance monitors. Each screen was distorted with visual noise and wavering hum bars. The faint sounds coming from the monitors were now nothing but static. The others noticed as well.

"Whoa, what happened?" Stanley said. "Why did the video feed cut out?"

"Why just the video feed, and not the rest of the electricity?" Wendy said, her tone sarcastic. "It's sabotage, dude. Bill doesn't want us seeing what's going on out there."

"No, I don't think so," Ford said, his eyes narrowing as he examined the monitors. "If the feeds were cut, the screens would be blank. This looks more like some kind of ground loop interference."

"Which means?" Stanley said, frowning.

"It means there is some kind of power source that corrupting the video and audio signals."

Wendy scowled. "Like a _vampire_ power source?"

"I know a lot about vampires," Ford said, shaking his head, "but I've never heard of one being able to disrupt analog signals before."

"Analog?" Wendy said, snorting. "Time to switch to digital, dude."

Ford lifted his chin. "I'll have you know, Wendy, that this technology was extremely advanced for 1982."

Wendy smirked, and looked like she was about to retort, when Stanley said, "Quiet, both of you!"

Ford looked over to see that Stanley was turning up the volume on the monitors. The hiss of static came through the speakers, and Ford gave his brother a questioning look. Stanley just shook his head and pointed at his ear. _Listen,_ he mouthed.

Ford concentrated on the static, and saw Wendy and Soos do the same.

Suddenly, Soos' eyes widened, and he straightened. "Dude!" he said.

Stanley waved at him to be quiet, and looked at Ford to see if he had heard what Soos had heard. Ford shook his head, and looked at the distorted screens, as if that would help him pick up what Stanley and Soos were hearing.

Then he heard it, faint amidst the static. Small bursts of an unmistakable voice.

"….ee! …our f…" The static overwhelmed the voice for a moment before it broke through again, almost indecipherable within the noise. "And you… ee!...free!..."

Ford looked up and met Stanley's solemn gaze. "Mabel?" he said.

Stanley nodded, and Wendy said, "Wait, what? You can hear Mabel?"

"Yeah," Stanley said. "She's out there, right now."

"Do you think Dipper is with her?" Soos asked.

"I don't know." Stanley rubbed at his eyes, which were looking more tired and bloodshot than usual, Ford noted. "But she went with that tree chick to break his curse, and now she's back, so…"

"Ooh!" Soos said. "Maybe that Mother of the Wood gave them something powerful enough to beat Bill!" He gasped with realization. "Maybe that's the power source that's messing with the monitors!"

Ford rubbed at his chin. "I suppose that's possible," he said, "but there's no way to know for sure at the moment."

"Shhh," Stanley said, leaning toward the speakers. "I can't hear."

They all stood around the monitors in silence, straining to hear Mabel's voice through the static again.

Nothing.

Ford looked at Stanley and saw his face creased with anxiety as the minutes passed, and the static no longer yielded up any trace of Mabel's voice. But still, they all stood in silence, none of them willing to make a sound for fear that they might miss something.

The speakers hissed and hissed, and Ford swallowed against the dryness in his throat.

And then, faintly through the static… the sound of Bill's laughter.

Stanley looked up at Ford, his face pinched and pale, his eyes sparking with anger and fear, reflecting Ford's own feelings. Bill was back. Something bad was happening outside with Mabel and Dipper.

And there was no way for any of them to help.

* * *

Dipper felt sick and angry, and not just because he was pinned to the ground by five huge, over-muscled men, one of whom had a solid grip on his antlers and was currently grinding the side of his face into the dirt.

This was not how his plan was supposed to go. Bill shouldn't have been able to sneak up on him. He knew the scent of Gideon's vampire body that Bill was currently possessing. He should have been able to scent Bill coming from a mile away. He should have had plenty of warning to get Mabel and himself to safety. But instead, the demon was right there, floating just at the edge of his peripheral vision, shrouded in some sort of weird black flames, and he _still_ couldn't smell him.

In fact, Dipper realized… there was an absolute _lack of scent_ in the space where Bill hung in the air. He closed his eyes for a moment, and while the air around him was filled with scents of every kind, Bill seemed to be a complete absence of _anything_. A large, twisting void. How?

It had to be that strange, seemingly tangible darkness. He couldn't think of any other explanation. And wasn't that just _great_. Here he'd been relying on his new sense of smell to keep track of Bill, and who knows how long Bill had been watching him and Mabel freeing the townsfolk from being mind-controlled before attacking them? He had given Bill had plenty of time to set up an ambush while he was running around, blissfully unaware of his presence.

But, on the plus side, he had a way to track Bill again. All he had to do was listen and smell and feel for the concentrated spot that was an absence of anything. Not that this would do anything to help him _now_.

Dipper knew he only had himself to blame for getting wrestled to the ground and trussed up like a calf at a rodeo. The mesmerized residents of Gravity Falls filled the clearing. All their scents marked them human, and though they each had a unique scent all their own, he had no idea which scent belong to which person. Mabel's scent was the only individual human scent he recognized, and he had foolishly assumed that the townsfolk were all occupied with ignoring him and Mabel in favor of attacking the Shack. The men currently holding him down had been mindless shufflers like the rest, just part of the crowd, until Mabel was torn from his back. Then they turned on him. Still mindless, but controlled by Bill, who wasn't supposed to be there.

"Mabel!" he yelled, partially muffled, and getting dirt in his mouth for his efforts. One of his ears was painfully pinned under his head, and his bare arms and torso stung in places where he'd scraped against the rough ground when he was taken down.

Mabel didn't answer. Instead, to his surprise, he heard Gideon's voice, faint and echo-y. " _Don't hurt her, Bill! You… you promised she was mine, remember?_ "

"Keep your pants on, short stuff!" Bill said, his voice annoyingly cheerful. "Does it look like I'm hurting her? She's doing more damage than I am!"

Bill had Mabel? Panic squeezed Dipper's chest, and he struggled to turn his head so that he could see what was happening. He managed to shift just a bit before the guy holding him by the antlers lifted his head and slammed it onto the ground again, leaving his head ringing and his vision blurred. A wounded moan escaped him.

Distantly, he heard a faint, muffled yell that might have been his name. He blinked back tears of pain from his eyes and, as his blurred surroundings slowly came into focus, he found that the head slam had inadvertently given him a much better view, with his neck twisted, his face turned uncomfortably upward.

Bill was holding Mabel in the air with his weird shadow. His yellow eyes gleamed as tendrils of darkness roped around her arms, torso and legs, with one tendril covering her mouth, effectively silencing her. She was glaring daggers at Bill, thrashing in his strange, shadowy grip. There was a small burst of light near Mabel's right hand, and the tendril there dissolved and shrank back. With her arm slightly loose, she managed to destroy two more tendrils before Bill replaced them.

She was using the amulet, Dipper realized. Bill's shadow couldn't touch it, and she was using it to fight back. And Bill couldn't get help from his mesmerized victims, because touching the amulet would wake them up.

"Yeah!" he shouted, knowing he might get head-slammed again, but not caring as Mabel vanquished three more tendrils. "Go, Mabel!"

Bill cackled. "Yes, go, Shooting Star! Fight! Fight! Fight!" He laughed as Mabel zapped more tendrils, only for him to quickly replace them. "I love watching you stupid meat bags struggle against the inevitable!"

And then, to Dipper's horror, Bill reached out with a pale hand and snatched the amulet right out of Mabel's grasp.

Bill's hand – or rather, Gideon's hand, with Bill in control, Dipper reminded himself – erupted into white hot flames, instantly charring the pale skin, blistering it black and red.

Bill laughed, an insane, gloating cackle. Then, clenching his burning fist around the amulet, he crushed it with barely any effort. The white flames extinguished, and he opened his blackened, damaged hand, letting the shattered pieces fall to the ground.

"Mabel!" Dipper yelled, his stomach twisting in fear, "close your eyes!" But Mabel had already squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to keep her face turned from Bill.

"Now, now, none of that!" Bill said, and, free from interference, he wrapped his shadowy tendrils around Mabel, and forced her to turn her head to face him.

"No!" Mabel, eyes still closed, struggled futilely to shake him off. "Let go of me, you stupid butt-face! Leave me alone!"

"No can do, Shooting Star!" Bill said, and tendrils snaked to her face, above and below her eyes, and started to pry them open. "You're my ace in the hole, and I've got a special task for you!"

Dipper jerked uselessly within his bonds, huffing in fury as Bill forced Mabel's eyes open. "No!" he shouted, as Mabel's expression went slack, her eyes glazing. Bill laughed again as he unceremoniously dropped her to the ground where she landed like a broken doll.

" _My peach dumplin'!_ "

Dipper felt his eyes widen as a faintly glowing, ghostly figure flew to hover anxiously over where Mabel had fallen.

"Gideon?" he said in surprise.

Bill and Gideon both turned to look at him.

Gideon looked as surprised as he felt. " _You can see me?_ " he asked.

Dipper scowled at him. "Unfortunately," he said, not even bothering to hide the hate he felt for this kid who had ruined his life. To his surprise, Gideon flinched guiltily.

Bill's glowing, slit-pupil eyes narrowed within the darkness that engulfed him. "Interesting," he said, and floated closer, peering into Dipper's face.

Dipper tensed, closing his eyes, icy fear flooding his veins. After everything that he'd gone through the past few hours, having it all end with him becoming Bill's mindless slave would suck big time. "Get away from me!" he said, and as he did, he felt that vast _something_ surge within him. He felt like he was standing on Ocean Beach, unable to move as the inexorable tide rose to meet him, to suck him into its depths.

He felt the cold, tingling pressure of Bill's shadow on his face, and he struggled against it. But, just like it had with Mabel, it pried his eyes open against his will.

Bill was less than a foot away, staring into his eyes, and Dipper braced himself for being hypnotized into submission.

Nothing happened. Well, there was an unpleasant itching sensation in the back of his head, but it stopped when Bill blinked. The tendrils released his face.

" _Very_ interesting," Bill said.

Dipper blinked in shock. He wasn't hypnotized. Bill _hadn't been able to hypnotize him_.

He felt like he had just rolled a natural 38 Saving Throw against Compulsion.

Bill didn't seem angry about his failure, though. Instead, he snapped the fingers of his unburnt hand. Behind him, Mabel stirred and slowly got to her feet. She looked completely dazed and empty as she turned toward the Shack and slowly walked inside, the other mesmerized townsfolk making way for her.

"What are you doing with Mabel?" Dipper asked, pushing down his surprise and bringing his anger at the forefront. Better anger than the fear that was gnawing at his insides. He didn't want to give Bill the satisfaction of seeing just how terrified and overwhelmed he really was.

"Nothing much," Bill said. "Just sending her to be with her family, where she'll be more comfortable!"

Dipper snorted. "Yeah, right," he said, rolling his eyes.

"But look at _you!_ " Bill said, circling him in the air. "If Shooting Star is my ace in the hole, you're definitely the wild card! I gotta admit, I was not expecting this! What did that woman do to you?"

"None of your business," Dipper snapped.

"Ooh, testy!" Bill laughed. "You know, your mom said the same thing to me, not too long ago!"

Dipper felt his heart stutter in his chest. "What?" Another surge from that inexorable tide within him, and he felt his head ache, as if there was physical pressure building in his head. He gritted his teeth and pushed it back. "No. You're lying."

"Hate to break it to you, Pine Tree," Bill said, "but your mom and dad were on the phone with Sheriff Blubs when I showed up! After I sent the idiot away, your parents and I had a nice chat! In fact, I bet they are on their way up here right now, rushing to try and save their precious children from the terrible demon!"

Dipper tried to shake his head, but the man holding his antlers had a grip like a vise. "You leave them out of this!"

"Too late for that now!" Bill's eyes gleamed with giddiness, and the white of his shark-toothed grin permeated the darkness that shrouded him. "But look at it this way! You'll have all of your family together when I unleash Weirdmageddon on the world!"

Unable to turn his head, Dipper closed his eyes, if only so he could stop looking at Bill.

"Ah, don't be like that, Pine Tree!" Bill's voice was closer than it was, and Dipper resisted the urge to open his eyes to keep track of the demon, focusing on the small, moving void with his other senses instead. "Come on, kid, instead of sulking, you should be rooting for me! Weirdmageddon is perfect for you! With you looking like that, what do you think your chances are of ever living a normal life? You think you can go back home with your parents and your sister looking like something out of a dopey fantasy movie?"

"Shut up," Dipper said.

He felt the void move closer. "What does this world have to offer you now?" Bill said. "Nothing! You think you can go out there and be any kind of normal? Kid, the only thing you could do with your life now is be some sideshow attraction at the Mystery Shack! And if you stepped one little hoof out of this town, you'd end up in some science lab as an experiment! But in my Weirdmageddon, you'd fit right in!"

"Shut _up!_ " Dipper kept his eyes squeezed shut, fighting back the ache in his chest that threatened to make his eyes more than just sting. It would be better if he thought Bill was lying to make him hurt, but those thoughts already haunted him. Bill was just giving voice to the inner fears he couldn't shake.

"Guess what, Pine Tree?" Bill said, completely ignoring his protest. "I've decided that I'm willing to make a deal with you."

Dipper couldn't help it. He opened his eyes and gave Bill an incredulous look. "You must be crazy if you think I'd ever make a deal with you again. You told me you'd give me the laptop password in exchange for a puppet, and instead, you _stole_ my body, _smashed_ the laptop, and tried to destroy my journal! And that's not even mentioning the note you wrote to Mabel, telling her you planned on throwing my body off the water tower!"

Bill raised his charred hand in a nonchalant wave. "That's all ancient history, kid," he said, "but hey, if it makes you feel any better, the password was STANFORD. There! Deal wrapped up nice and tidy!"

"Unbelievable," Dipper said. The pressure in his head was getting worse, and his body, from his flesh and fur all the way down to his bones, tingled as if he was in the midst of an electrical storm. He struggled to focus past the unsettling sensation. "Forget it, Bill, I'm not making a deal with you."

Bill shrugged, his shroud of shadow flickering with the movement. "Well, that's too bad, because it would be a mutually beneficial deal! Face it, Pine Tree, at this point, Weirdmageddon is inevitable! The rift will be in my hands before the sun rises, if not sooner. Once that happens, you're gonna have to choose a side!"

"I already know what side I'm on," Dipper said, glaring at Bill, "and it's not yours."

"Are you sure?" Bill said, sounding way too smug. "Because if you make a deal with me, I will personally guarantee the safety, sanity and well-being of your whole family for the rest of their natural lives. Shooting Star, your mom and dad, and your grunkles. I'll even throw in Red and Question Mark for free!"

Dipper gaped in disbelief. "Why?" he asked. "What could you possibly want from me that's worth that?"

Bill circled him again, and Dipper followed him with his eyes. "I'll be honest with you, kid! You intrigue me! I was expecting you to return either dead or as a fawn, _if_ you returned at all. Instead, you're _this!_ " Bill gestured at him with both hands and a few black tendrils. "I don't know what that woman did to you to break the curse, but it doesn't take a genius to see that you're not even close to being human anymore! Once Weirdmageddon hits, if you join me, you'll fit right in with me and the freaks and nightmares I call my friends!"

Dipper couldn't believe what he was hearing. "There's got to be more to it than that," he said, skepticism heavy in his voice. "If you're just looking for strange-looking things to join you, why not ask the Multi-bear? Or the Manotaurs? Why me? I hate you!"

Bill laughed. "Aw, you caught me! You're too clever for your own good, Pine Tree!" Bill's tone was mocking, and he circled until he was hanging right in front of Dipper's face. "It's your magic, kid! Never seen anything like it! It's interesting!"

Dipper paled, trying to ignore the way that strange tingle was making his bones itch, and the building pressure behind his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on!" Bill rolled his eyes. "Don't play dumb, Pine Tree! You're so full of magic, you're leaking it like a balloon that had a run-in with a porcupine! I mean, look at what you've done to this clearing, just in the short time you've been lying there!"

Dipper tried to look, but couldn't lift his head.

"Oh, whoops!" Bill said, and snapped his fingers.

The hands holding on to his antlers released him, and the other men holding him down stood and walked away. With them gone, he struggled to move again, but found he could do no more than wiggle slightly within his bonds. His arms were bound behind his back, and his four legs were tied together so that he couldn't even attempt to stand. Frustrated, Dipper gave Bill a look that was all suspicion and anger, before lifting his head, his ears flicking back and forth.

The first thing he noticed was that Gideon was floating close by, watching him with big, sorrowful eyes. Dipper glared at him, and Gideon cringed slightly.

Dipper frowned. What was Gideon playing at? He didn't actually feel _bad_ for what he'd done, did he? Probably not. This was probably just another stupid game he was playing. And even if he _did_ feel some regret, well, too bad, because Dipper was not in a forgiving mood.

He decided to completely ignore Gideon, and looked around to see what Bill was talking about.

The dirt parking lot was now covered in thick green grass and wildflowers. Thin stalks and ferns peeked out of the junk and debris that the townsfolk had thrown into piles. Ivy climbed the totem pole and the walls of the Shack. The old wood-chopping stump at the far edge of the clearing had new sprouts of life growing out of the cracks.

He swallowed hard. "I did that?" he whispered.

Bill threw his head back and laughed. "Well, it sure wasn't me, kid! Right now, all of _my_ power is vampiric death, darkness and decay! And let me tell you, it's boring! It'll sure be nice once that rift opens the path to my dimension! Then I can be rid of this stupid meat sack and we'll have a party that never ends, with a host that never dies! And if you join me, you and your wild magic will get a front row seat to the festivities! In exchange, your family will be safe from any of the harm or chaos that Weirdmageddon will bring!" Bill grinned, black flames flickering around him silently, before he settled down to look Dipper in the eyes.

"I'm being generous, kid," he said, and Dipper was surprised at the sudden seriousness in Bill's usual manic tone. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer. It's a no-lose situation. Take it, and we both win."

Dipper swallowed. "And if I don't take it?"

"Then Shooting Star, your parents and your grunkles will become a part of my throne of human agony, and you? I think your unique skin will make a nice throw rug. And just for fun, I'll make sure you live through it. Then you can be the first attraction at my personal petting zoo." He spread his hands theatrically. "Pine Tree: The Skinless Cervitaur!"

Dipper couldn't help the shudder that ran through him. "You're insane."

Bill's manic tone was back. "I sure am! Now you get to decide if you'll be on the good side of my insanity, or the bad side!"

Dipper looked away, feeling sick. His stomach twisted and his head throbbed.

If there was one lesson he had learned, it was that there was no such thing as being on the "good side" of Bill's madness. Great Uncle Ford had once been on Bill's "good side," and that had just been a façade for manipulation, deceit and betrayal.

As tempting as it was – and it was _very_ tempting – Dipper knew that he couldn't trust Bill to keep his end of the deal. If he thought for one moment that Bill would actually keep his family safe from harm in exchange for his cooperation, he would have made the deal without hesitation.

But Great Uncle Ford had taught him that Bill sugar-coated his lies with flattery and promises he never meant to keep – something Dipper had already learned that for himself first-hand.

"Tick-tock, Pine Tree!" Bill said, and Dipper turned his head to see Bill's right hand extended out of the shadow, wreathed in blue flame. "I'm a busy entity, so take the deal! It's now or never!"

Dipper forced himself to meet Bill's gaze.

"Never," he said.

Bill's eyes narrowed. "That's really your choice, kid?"

Dipper nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Bill sighed heavily. "That's a shame. Looks like we'll have to do this the hard way!"

Before Dipper could react, the man still sitting behind him grabbed his antlers again, and he winced as his head was once again slammed into the ground. But this time, his face and ear met soft grass instead of graded dirt.

Bill slid into his view less than a foot away from his face, and he tried to flinch back, but again found his head immobile. He watched as Bill raised his good hand to his sharp teeth and bit into his palm. Dark blood, almost black, welled from the wound.

"What are you doing?" Dipper said, his voice cracking on the last word.

"I told you," Bill said, dipping one charred, blistered finger into the blood. "You're a wild card, kid. And if you won't play _for_ me, I'll just have to make sure you can't play _against_ me."

Dipper felt both his flesh and fur crawl, and clenched his eyes shut as Bill reached out and touched his forehead with the bloody finger, drawing three lines – a triangle. The blood burned cold, and Dipper held his breath, choking back a pained whimper. Bill dipped his finger in the blood again, then drew what could only be an eye in the center of the triangle.

As soon as the eye was complete, Dipper saw a bright flash of red through his eyelids, and suddenly the pressure in his head vanished.

In fact, that whole vast _something_ that he'd been trying to ignore since he realized it was there inside him… was gone. It didn't disappear exactly, but rather it seemed as though a barrier slammed down between him and it. He felt like he was still standing on Ocean Beach, but now the endless ocean was behind an immense, impenetrable wall. The strange, tingling feeling of being in the middle of an electric storm was completely absent.

Dipper felt empty. Hollowed out. All the strength drained from his limbs, and he went limp in his bonds.

Blearily, Dipper opened his eyes, fear spiking through him at the satisfied look in Bill's yellow eyes. It took effort to even _breathe_ now. "What… did you do?"

"I sealed up your power, kid!" Bill said. "Can't have it running wild while I've got a world to end!"

Dipper tried to think of a scathing, snappy response, but nothing came to mind, and even if it had, it was a struggle to speak. He felt like his very life force had been leeched away. All of his senses felt cloudy and muddled.

"Now, you just sit tight, Pine Tree!" Bill's voice sounded distorted and distant. "I have some business to take care of, and then the fun can begin!"

* * *

Ford startled as the monitor speakers suddenly screeched with feedback, and he covered his ears against the pain. Wendy and Soos were also covering their ears, he noticed, and Stanley was wincing as he reached for the volume button. He turned it, and the feedback faded away with the reduced volume.

"Ow," Soos said succinctly, and then: "Hey, the monitors are back!"

"Find the kids!" Stanley said, rushing over to the periscope camera.

"I don't see them," Wendy said. "But, uh… why are there grass and flowers growing all over the parking lot?"

Ford stepped up behind her to look, just as Soos said, "Wait, I think I see Dipper, there, at the edge of the screen! Hey, he's human again! He's lying in the grass, and… I think there's a deer sitting on him?" Soos leaned forward, peering at the screen intently. "Or maybe he's sitting on a deer? I can't really tell. And I think that floating shadow next to him is Bill!"

Ford looked at where Soos had indicated, and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. "Dipper?" he whispered.

"Sixer," Stanley said, still looking through the periscope, his voice a low growl. "Tell me I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing."

Ford briefly glanced at Wendy, and from the way her eyes widened, her face going pale, her freckles standing out in stark contrast to her white skin, she understood as well.

"Well," Ford said. "If you're seeing that Dipper seems to be part human and part, er… deer… and that Bill seems to have him tied up, then I'm afraid I can't."

"Wait, what?" Soos said, peering at the monitor again.

Stanley pulled away from the periscope with a snarl, a dark look on his face. "I'm gonna kill that forest chick. She said they were going to _break_ his curse, not… not make it _worse!_ "

"Dudes," Wendy said, gesturing at the monitors, and they all looked to see that the vampiric void that was Bill was moving away from Dipper and toward the Shack, followed by the lone guy who had been holding Dipper's head down by the antlers. Bill stopped just outside the barrier.

A moment later, they all jumped as a loud _CLANG_ echoed through the room, followed by the whirr of machinery. They looked at each other, dread clearly on their faces, then looked to the end of the room.

The elevator was coming down.

* * *

Dipper tried to track Bill with his eyes as the demon moved toward the Shack, but even that was difficult. He barely noticed as the man behind him released his antlers and then, at some unspoken command, stood and followed after Bill, leaving him lying alone and helpless.

He couldn't believe it. Sealed up his power? More like sealed up everything except the parts of him controlled by his autonomic nervous system, barely keeping him alive.

He thought about the vast ocean of that something within him - that something that felt so alien that the thought of embracing it terrified him, for fear that it would swamp what remained of his human identity – and realized, now that he was cut off from it, just how integral it was to his existence as this new creature Mother had created.

What had Bill called him? Cervitaur? Lame. That didn't seem much better than Mabel's deer-taur.

He suddenly wished more than anything that he could rewind the day. Start over. Stay human somehow. He wondered where Blendin Blandin and his time-travelling tape measurer were right now. Probably not close enough in either time or space to help. There was very little chance that he'd wander into the Shack's clearing at this moment just so that Dipper could say, _Hey, buddy, remember how Mabel and I got you your job back, and a nice head of hair to go with it, after Globnar? Think you could do me a solid and go back in time about 18 hours and stop me from picking up any of those stupid little animal figurines?_

Dipper waited for a moment, hoping that, just _maybe_ , his thought had invoked the trope of the least likely thing happening just after declaring it to be the least likely thing that could happen.

But Blendin didn't appear.

Instead, the faintly glowing, transparent form of Gideon appeared in his wavering vision.

"Ugh," he groaned. "Go… _away_ , Gideon."

Gideon didn't move except to twiddle his fingers nervously. "So, you can still see me," he said, in his annoying, folksy drawl.

Dipper glowered at him. "Apparently. And I… don't want to." It was hard to get the breath to speak. "So leave."

Gideon glanced over his shoulder in the direction Bill had gone, then turned back to him. "You don't look so good," he said, frowning.

"And whose… fault is that?" Dipper hated that he was wasting his breath on this evil little twerp. "What part of… _leave_ … didn't you understand?"

"So," Gideon continued as if he hadn't spoken, looking down at his hands. "Mabel probably hates me now."

Dipper gasped out a short, incredulous laugh. "You think? Let me… put it this way. When I… told her I was… going to kill you… she told me to… get in line." It was tougher than he wanted to admit, saying all that when he kept having to pause to suck in air. But the devastated look on Gideon's face was worth it.

"I kinda figured," Gideon whispered. "For what it's worth, I didn't mean for it to turn out this way."

"Right, instead you… wanted me stuck as a… dumb animal for the… rest of my life and… for Mabel to be… your vampire queen." Broken as his speech was, Dipper made sure his complete loathing for Gideon dripped from every word.

"I…" Gideon swallowed, his eyes lowered. "I was wrong. I didn't mean to hurt her. Being a vampire is horrible, just _horrible_. After being one myself, seeing what it was like… I could never do that to her."

"Oh, so _that's_ … why you nearly… ripped her throat… out," Dipper snarked. "Because you… _care_ for… her so much."

Gideon's gaze snapped up to meet his. "That wasn't me!" Gideon said, but then he crumpled a little. "I… I mean it _was_ , obviously, but I… wasn't in control."

Dipper didn't even bother to respond to that. He just glared until Gideon looked away.

"Anyway," Gideon said softly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did to you, Dipper, and I'm sorry for hurting Mabel."

Dipper snorted. _Too little, too late_ , he thought. "What do… you want from… me, Gideon? Forgiveness? You want… me to say, oh, no… problem!" Dipper wished he felt strong enough to lift his head to emphasize his disgust, but when he tried, his head swam, and he had to close his eyes. "Even if my grunkles… stop Bill, my life is… ruined because of… you. _Sorry_ doesn't… really cut it."

"I know." Gideon sighed. "I wanted to tell you anyway, since I'm probably gonna die for good when Bill gets the rift."

Dipper managed to crack one eye open at that. Did Gideon seriously think he was going to elicit sympathy for finally realizing that Bill was a back-stabbing monster who couldn't be trusted?

"Okay," Dipper said flippantly. "I'd say nice… knowing you, but… I'd be lying."

He saw Gideon's fists clench tightly for a moment, then slowly relax. "I guess I deserved that," he said.

Dipper didn't feel inclined to argue. He closed his eye again and hoped that Gideon would take the hint and go away.

Oh man. He felt so empty, it _hurt_. It was a strange pain, like that one time he'd had a cavity and went home after seeing the dentist. When the Novocain started to wear off, his mouth felt numb and achy at the same time. It was like that now, only his whole body felt that way. Bill's seal had messed him up big time.

He wondered if Mabel was okay. She was under Bill's control, but she was his 'ace in the hole,' whatever that meant, so he could only hope that mean he didn't plan to hurt her – at least not any time soon.

"Dipper…"

Dipper groaned and opened his eyes. Gideon was still there, hanging in the air in front of him, looking anxious and contrite. " _What?_ "

"I know you hate me – and you're well within your right to do so!" Gideon said quickly as Dipper's scowl darkened. "But… I need to ask a favor of you. I'd do it myself, but I can't since I'm…" He looked down at himself.

Dipper gave him a flat stare. "You're kidding… me, right?"

Gideon looked up and, to Dipper's surprise, there were faint, ghostly tears trickling down his pudgy cheeks. "Please. I can't ask anyone else. You're the only one who can see and hear me, other than Bill. I'll beg on my knees if you want. Look. I'm begging." Gideon floated as close to the ground as he could without phasing through it, and knelt before Dipper, his hands clasped in front of him. " _Please_ , Dipper." The tears began to drip off his chin.

Dipper closed his eyes again, if only so that he wouldn't have to see the pathetic look on Gideon's face.

He hated to admit it, but Gideon seemed sincere. There was none of his usual, manipulative theatricality in his countenance.

But Gideon's misery served him right! He deserved to suffer after everything he'd done, not just to him, but to Mabel and Grunkle Stan – and not just in the past day or so, but all summer long!

Then, against his will, Dipper remembered what it felt like to be lost in the mindscape, with Bill inhabiting his body, feeling helpless, not knowing what to do, not knowing if ever been seen or heard by his family and friends, not knowing he'd ever be _real_ again…

… and Dipper inwardly cursed himself as he felt a slight twinge of pity for Gideon.

 _Ugh, it's Pacifica all over again, only a billion times worse_ , he thought.

He opened his eyes to see that Gideon had slouched over and was weeping into his hands.

Dipper heaved a pained sigh. "Fine," he said, and Gideon looked up, his red tear-stained eyes wide in astonishment. "If I do this… favor for you, will… you go away and… leave me alone?"

"Yes!" Gideon said eagerly. "I swear, Dipper, I'll never speak to you again, if that's what you want!"

Gideon seemed so genuinely relieved that Dipper felt another treacherous twinge of pity. "What is it?" he asked. "And keep… in mind that… I'm not in the… best shape at… the moment. I… probably won't be… able to do it even… if I want to."

"That's fine, that's just fine," Gideon said, wiping the tears off his face. "I understand. I just… if you can, if you get the chance…" Gideon swallowed and looked at his hands. "Please tell Mabel that I'm sorry. That, if I could do this summer all over again, I'd do things different. That I'd never do anything to hurt either of you. I don't ask for her forgiveness, or yours, I just… want her to know that." Gideon looked up and met his gaze, and Dipper could see that his lips were trembling. "Would you tell her that for me, please?"

"Yeah," Dipper said wearily. "I'll tell her."

The raw, open gratitude on Gideon's face was almost painful. "Thank you, Dipper. Bless you."

Dipper felt keenly uncomfortable. "Sure, what… ever, man. Now…"

"Right," Gideon said, floating upward. "I'm leaving you alone now. Thank you!" And then he was finally out of sight.

Dipper sighed, feeling the numb ache in his body, and wondered what was wrong with him, that an apology and a few tears could so easily douse his righteous anger – especially against Gideon.

Maybe it was because – if he was truly honest with himself – he knew he could have _been_ Gideon.

What would his life have been like if he had found one of the journals when he was seven or eight, instead of twelve? What if he had found that amulet – the one that gave Gideon so much power when he and Mabel first encountered him? Would he have been able to avoid the temptation of using that power to show off? To gain the same worshipful adoration that Gideon had received? To use it to gain fame and fortune?

Dipper knew he couldn't claim to be above that. He had done some pretty stupid things, especially this past summer, all with the hope of making himself look better in the eyes of his peers. He winced internally as he thought about running through the forest in nothing but a loincloth and rub-on tattoos, off to kill the Multibear because he wanted to be seen as more manly. And ugh, that voice-changing potion that made him sound like some TV game show announcer. That was a _disaster_. Using Rumble McSkirmish to fight his battles nearly ended with Robbie getting killed. Oh, and how could he forget Summerween, when he decided he was too grown up to go trick-or-treating and had tried to ditch Mabel in favor of going to a party with Wendy? That had nearly gotten them all eaten by the Summerween Trickster.

As for Gideon… well, he didn't have Mabel as his twin. If there was one thing on which Dipper could agree with Gideon, it was that Mabel was, on the whole, awesome.

Mabel was always there for him, keeping him grounded with her sheer Mabel-ness. Making sure he didn't start taking himself too seriously. Reminding him that, while uncovering mysteries and conspiracies was all well and good, sometimes it was better to turn their bedroom into a crazy mini-golf course and play until three in the morning, or have an epic water balloon fight in the yard, or sing really bad karaoke – with or without zombies – or marathon Ducktective together with a ton of junk food. Mabel was there to try to keep him from making one of his over-complicated lists, to help him calm down when he got too stressed-out and started panicking over something that wasn't quite as terrible as it seemed, and remind him that he really couldn't pull off v-neck t-shirts.

And speaking of shirts, it was really getting hard to ignore that he wasn't wearing one, even with his body feeling mostly numb. But at least the ground was softer, since he had somehow made thick, lush grass grow all over the clearing. At least he wasn't too close to the Shack, and the townsfolk were too busy being mind-controlled to see him in all his bare, pale, narrow-chested glory. No one seemed to have noticed that he now bore more of a resemblance to Bambi than a human being. And, as much as he was desperately hoping that Great Uncle Ford was coming up with some amazing plan to defeat Bill and save the town – especially since _he_ had been rendered completely useless – he didn't mind postponing the moment when everyone – or _anyone_ – would see what he had become. He had yet to die from mortification, but there was always a first time.

Just as he was wondering if Great Uncle Ford might be able to do something about the seal Bill had put on his forehead, he felt something cold and snake-like wrap around his bound legs and start dragging him across the ground.

Dipper struggled to lift his head just long enough to see that Bill was back, using black tendrils of shadow to pull him toward the Shack. His head flopped back onto the grass when his strength gave out, and he started to protest, but Bill cut him off.

"You're not gonna want to miss this, Pine Tree!" Bill said, turning to give him a shark-like grin. "So I'm making sure you have a front row seat!"

Dipper felt dread settle into his stomach as he thought about what Bill might want him to see as the demon dragged him right up next to the Gift Shop steps, stopping just outside the magic barrier before releasing his legs.

"There!" Bill said, sounding immensely pleased with himself as he reached down and adjusted Dipper's head so that he had a good view of the clearing. "Oh, and who do we have here!" Bill looked up the road that led into town, and Dipper could just make out the dark forms of some straggling townsfolk. "Why, it's the Northwests! About time you guys joined the party! And to think, I invited you first!"

Sure enough, as the figures drew closer, Dipper could make out the tall forms of Mr. and Mrs. Northwest, and, limping behind them, the smaller figure of Pacifica.

At some unspoken signal from Bill, the older Northwests shambled toward the back of the Shack, presumably to join the other townsfolk in cleaning the place out. But Pacifica kept coming toward them.

"Hey, Pine Tree," Bill said, "here's a little secret about how vampiric mind control works! Once I look into someone's eyes, I control their will! They can't do anything at all, except what I want them to do! But they're still in there, listening, watching through their own eyes, helpless within their own heads! Seeing, hearing, feeling everything!"

Dipper felt his eyes widen in horror. That was terrible. Completely monstrous. He had thought that the hypnotized people were in some kind of dream-like state and weren't aware of what was going on, but if Bill was telling the truth… that meant that all the townsfolk under Bill's control knew what was happening. That meant they were helpless puppets, with Bill pulling their strings. That meant that _Mabel_ was trapped in her own head, doing Bill's bidding.

Numb and weak as he was, he felt a spark of cold fury ignite within him.

Bill continued. "Hey, didn't you help out the Northwests with a ghost problem they had a while back? You helped out Pacifica specifically, didn't you? That was pretty entertaining to watch! I especially enjoyed the part where you turned into a pine tree, Pine Tree! Frozen, caught in mid-scream of terror!" Bill laughed heartily. "Ah, good times! But Pacifica came to your rescue, opening those gates, didn't she! I wonder what she thinks of you now! Hey, let's find out!"

Dipper suddenly understood why Pacifica was still walking their direction, and felt the old, too-familiar sensation of self-conscious insecurity grip his heart. "Stop it," he said, and the squeezing panic in his chest made it even harder to breathe. "Leave her… alone!"

But of course Bill didn't listen, and as Pacifica came toward them, Dipper saw why she was limping.

She was wearing a lavender silk nightdress, but her feet were bare. Bare and dirty and bleeding, and Dipper realized that Bill had made her walk all the way from Northwest Manor in bare feet. The sight made that spark of cold fury within him burn brighter, and he wondered just how many of the townsfolk Bill had taken from their beds; how many were in sleepwear, and barefoot, like Pacifica. How many of them were injured in some way because of the tasks Bill had given them, unable to help themselves while in the grip of Bill's power?

Pacifica stumbled to a stop less than a foot away from him, and Dipper couldn't help but wince as he got a closer look at the state of her feet. But other than her limping gait, she showed no sign of feeling pain. She looked down at him, expression blank, eyes glazed as if unseeing.

But, according to Bill, she was seeing plenty. Feeling plenty.

"Hm," Bill said, the grin evident in his voice, "what's going on inside her head right now? A lot of confusion, that's no surprise! And… Ah, there it is! A nice burst of horror as she recognizes you! Took her a few moments! Must be all your new deer parts! Huh, more confusion, boring! Oh, a bit of unfocused anger in there!" Bill sighed, as if disappointed. "And finally, she settles on pity. Aw, Pine Tree! She feels sorry for you! Then again, you _do_ look pretty sad and pathetic!"

Bill turned to Pacifica, gasping, as if an idea had just struck him. "Hey, I know what would cheer up you two sad sacks! Pacifica, why don't you sit down next to Pine Tree, right there, and give him a good scratch behind the ears! He might pretend he doesn't like it, but, as you can see, he's more animal than human now!"

As Pacifica robotically sat near his head, obeying the needlessly-vocal command, Dipper figured that Death-by-Mortification just wasn't the way he was meant to go out, because otherwise, his new life would already be over. He cringed away as best he could as Pacifica reached out and began to gently scratch and rub the backs of his long, furry ears. Dipper knew that, were his weakened, hollowed-out body were capable of it, he would be blushing beet red.

The worst part was that it _did_ feel really nice. It made him want to sigh, relax, and close his eyes. So he resolutely did none of those things.

"Okay, Bill, you've…" He sucked in a weary breath. "…made your point. You're… in control. You can… make anyone do… whatever. Is this… why you dragged me… over here?"

"Kid, this is just the pre-show entertainment!" Bill's yellow eyes narrowed in glee as he gestured toward the Gift Shop door. "The Main Event is about to start!"

Dipper looked at the door, trying to focus beyond the maddening distraction of Pacifica's fingers running up and down his ears, and then through his messy hair, right between his antlers.

Wait… was she _petting_ him?

 _It's not her_ , Dipper thought, choking back the humiliation that was threatening to completely close off his throat. _It's Bill, making her do this. She's probably actually freaking out. She probably doesn't want to be anywhere near me. And I don't blame her. If we survive this, I'm never going to be able to look her in the face again._

Then, before he could follow that train of thought further, the door to the Gift Shop opened.

* * *

The elevator door opened.

Ford wasn't surprised to see Mabel. The moment he'd heard her voice over the static of the speakers, he had known that Bill was going to use her as a pawn in this deadly game they were playing.

What he didn't expect to see was Dan Corduroy, some thirty-ish years older than when he last saw him, when he had commissioned the young man to supervise the construction of his house. He was taller, bearded, more muscled, his face was blank… and he was holding Mabel around her waist with one arm, while holding what looked like a very sharp axe to her neck with the other.

"Dad," Wendy whispered, and Ford saw the normally-unflappable girl's face run through a myriad of emotions from horror, to distress, to utter rage.

And Mabel was smiling.

"Well, well, well!" she said, and though it was her voice coming from her throat, the inflection and the expression on her face were all Bill's. Her eyes scanned their little group, then narrowed when they lit on Stanley, who had a murderous scowl on his face. She looked at Wendy, and her smile turned threatening. "Red! You lied to me!"

Wendy's fists were clenched so hard her knuckles were white. "Yeah, and you fell for it, sucker," she said, her own smile just as dangerous.

"Whoa," Soos said, looking at Mabel in dismay. "I thought Bill couldn't get in the Shack! How is he—"

"Oh, I'm not actually here, Question Mark!" Mabel's eyes had a crazed gleam to them. "I'm just using Shooting Star here as a puppet via vampiric remote control! Nice loophole, don't you think? But's let cut the chit chat and get down to business!"

Ford did his best to look stoic when Bill looked at him through Mabel's eyes, but he felt such rage at Bill using his niece this way, he knew there was a visible tremble in his arms. "Yes," he said, "you want the rift." He held out the memory gun, knowing that Bill would know exactly what it was. "But I'm afraid none of us can tell you where it is."

For a moment, a look of thunderous fury flashed across Mabel's face, looking so out of place that it made Ford feel sick. But then Mabel smiled again, and laughed. The sound coming from Mabel's throat made chills run up his spine. "Oh, Sixer! That was really stupid! You've only prolonged the inevitable! Now, let me see… how do they do it in the movies? Oh, of course! Line up against the wall! Everyone get on your knees, hands on your heads, or the kid gets it!"

Soos immediately dropped to his knees, tears glistening in his eyes, but when the rest of them hesitated, the axe shifted on Mabel's neck, and a thin red line appeared. "Oops!" Mabel said, her voice cheerful. "That's right over the carotid artery! It would be a shame if the cut got any deeper!"

Ford and Wendy complied. He couldn't see Wendy's face, but he could feel her seething next to him.

"You bastard," Stanley snarled as he lowered himself to his knees. "When I get my hands on you—"

"Ha! Good luck with that, Fez!" Mabel looked over the control room, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Now, let's see, if I were a six-fingered freak, where would I hide an inter-dimensional rift?" Dan Corduroy carried her over to the portal room door, and she looked through the circular window.

Corduroy turned Mabel to face them again, and she had an amused smile on her face. "That's cute! But I hope you realize that all I have to do is get the good folks of Gravity Falls down here with shovels, and I'll have the rift in less than a half hour!"

"Oh no," Stanley said, his voice completely dead-pan, and Ford couldn't help but glance at his brother, who had gone from looking furious, to seeming downright bored. "What are we going to do, Stanford? Bill has discovered our cunning plan, hiding the rift in the most obvious place possible."

Mabel's eyes narrowed as she looked at Stanley, her smile gone.

"See, I don't remember where I hid the rift," Stanley said, shrugging, even with his hands on his head. "But I seem to recall being here all day and having plenty of time to take care of it. And if it was me – not saying that it _was_ me, mind you – but I would hide it in the least obvious place possible. Which sometimes can look like the most obvious place, but sometimes it isn't. I can think of plenty of good hiding places, not even counting all the hidden compartments the Shack has. Let's see, under floorboards, in the walls, behind secret doors, inside mattresses or cushions or stuffed animals, in drawers with fake bottoms… heck, just even locking it in my safe. Oh, can't forget the toilet tank, that's a classic."

Stanley had gone from looking bored, to smiling, almost with fondness as he listed off all the ways he would hide the rift. And the more he smiled, Ford noticed, the more Mabel scowled, eyes glinting with anger.

"And then I'd lay a trail of red herrings," Stanley continued. "You know, dusting one or two books on a suspicious-looking bookshelf. Making some fresh damage marks on the floorboards, peeling up wallpaper and then gluing it down with fresh glue, or hey," he said, looking over at Mabel with a grin. "Even turning over all the dirt in the portal room."

Mabel's fists were clenched and if looks could kill, Stanley would be dead a hundred times over.

"Change of plans," Bill said through Mabel's clenched teeth. "You guys are going up top. If you can't tell me where the rift is, you can join the other townsfolk in tearing the Shack apart."

"Oh, don't forget, Bill," Ford said, knowing that it was probably foolish to antagonize the demon further, but Stanley's tall tale had been inspiring. "You don't want to accidentally break the rift's container while it's still in the Shack. The barrier that Dipper and I made is so heavy-duty, it can contain the breach as good as, if not better than its current receptacle. So you might want to be careful with how you go about 'tearing the Shack apart.' After all, you wouldn't want your Weirdmageddon confined to this tiny bubble."

Bill didn't even look at him. Instead, Mabel said, "Okay, you losers, I've got some business to take care of. I've instructed Manly Dan here to take you outside, next to the Gift Shop. You will walk in front of him, and not stray farther than five feet away. If anyone even _looks_ like they are considering disobeying, Manly Dan will cut off Mabel's head before you can blink. Do I make myself clear?"

"As crystal," Stanley said flatly.

"Good," Mabel said. And then, as if someone had flipped a switch, her face went completely blank and all awareness drained out of her eyes.

"Mabel?" Stanley asked, his face creasing with concern.

"Bill dropped the remote connection," Ford said grimly. "Come on, everyone. Let's try to stay less than three steps ahead of Corduroy. We don't want to give Bill any excuse to hurt Mabel."

It was crowded in the elevator, to say the least. The four of them pressed themselves against the walls, trying to give Corduroy plenty of room, not wanting to jostle the massive man or his axe, which still rested on the thin red line over Mabel's carotid artery.

The elevator car groaned as it began to rise, and Ford felt a moment of dread, wondering if their combined weight was too much. But after a small lurch and a chugging sound, the car slowly rose to the first floor without further incident.

The doors opened, and they stepped out of the elevator and began to ascend the stairs. For as many people as Ford knew were in the Shack and outside, it was eerily quiet. When they reached the top, Ford saw that the Gift Shop was full of people, but they had parted to either side of the room, standing motionless like mannequins, giving them space to leave. Creepy.

Ford walked forward slowly, not wanting to get too far ahead of Corduroy, and the others kept pace. He reached the door and opened it, the shop bell jangling, a too-cheerful sound in the bleak silence.

Bill floated before them, just outside the barrier, wrapped in vampiric shadows, yellow slit-pupil eyes glowing manically, mouth stretched in a shark-toothed grin.

"Don't just stand there!" he said. "Come on down, kids! Time for you to join my mesmerized minions! But first, allow me to re-introduce you to Pine Tree, back from seeking help from a pretentious, overblown dryad, and looking more ridiculous than ever!"

As Ford and the others walked down the steps and through the barrier, with Corduroy following close behind, he looked down at where Dipper lay in the grass, bound and helpless. He was a deer-type centaur, Ford realized, confirming what he had suspected from seeing him on the security monitor. He had cervid ears and antlers, and was a fawn from the waist down. His facial features were only slightly altered, with a small black nose, and eyes that seemed a little too large and fey than they used to be.

A unfamiliar, rather pretty girl, completely under Bill's power, sat near Dipper's head, petting his ears and his head between his antlers, and the poor boy looked miserable and embarrassed. But most worrisome was how pale, almost grey, his human skin was, and the way his abdomen muscles pulled under his ribs with each labored breath.

And then there was Bill Cipher's symbol, drawn in dried blood, on his forehead.

Suddenly everything made sense. He wasn't sure why the Mother of the Wood had given Dipper this form, though perhaps it was all she could do because of the strength of the curse.

But she had also given him power. Power enough that when he and Mabel arrived at the Shack, his power had disrupted the monitors' analog feed. Power enough to cause the uncontrolled growth of new foliage all around the Shack. And power enough to keep him from being mesmerized, apparently.

When the monitors came back up, it was to show Bill leaving Dipper alone on the ground. And Ford would bet dollars to doughnuts that it was immediately after Bill had put that mark on Dipper's head.

Dipper's eyes widened as he saw the four of them coming down the stairs, and as he looked at Soos, Wendy and Stanley, he visibly flinched. He locked gazes with Ford for a moment before his eyes slid away, as if he was ashamed.

Ford understood his expression all too well, and he almost unconsciously flexed his six-fingered hands.

"Dipper, my boy," he said, forcing cheer into his voice, "it's good to see you."

Dipper looked back at him, a hint of incredulity in his eyes.

"Did Bill put that mark on your forehead?" he asked, keeping his tone light.

"Yeah," Dipper said. His voice was strained, but it was still wonderful to hear him speak. "It's a…" Abdomen-sucking gasp of breath. "…seal."

"I thought so," Ford said. "Just remember, seals can be broken."

Dipper's brow furrowed slightly, and he opened his mouth as if to ask a question, but Bill interrupted with his high-pitched laughter.

"Yeah, I don't think so!" he said. "I could untie Pine Tree right now, and he wouldn't even have the strength to stand, let alone break my seal!"

Dipper looked away again, his expression despairing, and Ford thought he felt his heart break just a little.

Ford looked over at Stanley. His brother was staring at Bill, fists clenched, looking ready for murder, and Ford knew that only the threat to Mabel's life held him in check. Soos was looking at Dipper in open dismay, and Wendy, who looked equally upset, seemed like she wanted to say something to the boy, but couldn't quite figure out what.

And Dipper, that dismal expression on his face, studiously looked almost everywhere else except in their direction. Ford thought that, in his current condition, perhaps it was a good thing the boy hadn't seen Mabel behind them, hanging limply in Corduroy's grip, an axe still to her neck.

He cleared his throat, hoping to draw Dipper's attention back to him. "It doesn't take physical strength to break a seal," Ford said to Bill, "as you well know. You might think Dipper is weak, but he has an inner strength that is more than enough to take care of that thing you put on him."

Bill clasped his hands together and held them to his cheek. "Aww, Sixer, you old softie," he said in a saccharine sweet voice. "Trying to give your great-nephew hope when there's none left!" Then he laughed, sharp and cruel. "Okay, reunion over! Fez! You look a bit stressed! Why don't you look me in the eyes and relax?"

Stanley snarled. "Why don't _you_ —"

Whatever he was about to suggest to Bill died in his throat as they all heard Corduroy shift behind them.

Stanley clenched his teeth, then slowly, deliberately looked into Bill's eyes.

Ford couldn't help the sick fear that clenched his heart as the life drained out of his brother's face.

"Wait!" Dipper said, panic in his thin voice. "What… are you doing?!"

Ford couldn't tell if Dipper meant the question for them, or for Bill.

But Bill answered. "I'm making them my slaves, and they're doing it willingly so that I don't kill Shooting Star!" he said, as he hypnotized Soos. Then he floated over to Wendy.

Wendy kept her eyes averted. "I'll look you in the eyes after you let my dad release Mabel," she said.

"Ha! That's not how it works, Red!" Bill said, "but you know? What the heck!"

Ford gaped as Corduroy walked around them and gently set Mabel on the ground next to Bill.

He heard Dipper gasp as his sister came into view. "Mabel!"

Corduroy walked away, axe falling from his hand, and Ford frowned. This was not good. If Bill was humoring Wendy with this concession meant that he was absolutely confident in his control over the situation.

Ford only hoped that this would play into his plan. As Wendy grimly looked into Bill's eyes, he turned to Dipper, met the boy's fearful gaze, and mouthed the words: _Break the seal_.

Dipper stared at him, looking lost.

 _I believe in you_ , Ford mouthed silently.

After a moment, Dipper gave him a weak nod and closed his eyes. His brow creased in concentration.

Good lad, Ford thought, then looked back at Bill to find the demon smirking at him.

"You know," Bill said, "I offered Pine Tree a chance to join me and be a part of Weirdmageddon! He'd fit right in, don't you think?"

Ford answered with a glare, and inwardly tried to prepare himself. He had to convince Bill that he was as enslaved as the others, or his plan was kaput.

"Too bad the kid's not as smart as you, Brainiac!" Bill said. "He turned me down, so I had to shut him down! But we've been through a lot together, so I'm giving you the same offer! It's not too late to join me, Fordsie! With that extra finger, you'd fit right in too!"

"I'll die before I join you," Ford said coldly.

Bill shrugged. "Suit yourself! You could have been great, Sixer! Now you'll just be one of the crowd!"

Ford tried not to flinch as Bill looked into his eyes. The glowing gold seemed to swirl, and Ford let his expression go slack and gave his best thousand-yard-stare.

Bill blinked. Then he laughed. He started laughing so hard, he doubled over and clutched his stomach. Then he threw his head back and cackled so loud, it seemed to echo around them.

"Oh, Sixer!" he said at last, and Ford felt cold dread steal over him. "And here I thought you were smart! You seriously thought you could get away with that? Vampiric mind control requires a connection of the minds! You thought I wouldn't notice when I couldn't connect to yours?"

Ford dropped the act. There was no point. "It was worth a shot," he muttered. He glanced over at Dipper and frowned when he saw that, though his face seemed relaxed, drops of sweat beaded on his skin.

"No, it really wasn't!" Bill said, and Ford forced himself to stand firm when he saw that Bill was no longer smiling. "Enough of the games! If I can't get into your head, then you couldn't have erased your memories! You know where the rift is!"

"I… I don't," Ford protested, internally wincing at his stutter. "Stanley hid it before I returned."

"Don't _LIE TO ME!_ "

Ford yelped as black tendrils shot out from Bill's vampiric shadow, and wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides. One tendril wrapped around his neck so tight, he began to choke.

"I said no more games! You're going to bring me that rift, and you're going to do it NOW."

"N… never," he gasped.

And then Bill smiled. "Never say never, Sixer."

With that, he unceremoniously dropped Ford to the ground. Ford struggled to sit up, rubbing at his bruised throat. "Wait," he said, as Bill turned to Mabel.

Before Ford could say another word, Bill's shadow lashed out, thin, pointed, and sharp. It flashed through Mabel so fast and was gone that Ford wasn't even sure what had happened until the blood started to stain her sweater and she crumpled wordlessly to the ground.

"NO!" he screamed.

"I give her about ten, maybe fifteen minutes before she bleeds out!" Bill said. "You bring me the rift, smash it outside your stupid forcefield, start my Weirdmageddon, and I'll heal her up, good as new!"

Ford staggered to his feet. His eyes stung, and there was a strange roaring in his ears.

"Tick tock, Fordsie! I can't heal her until I can take physical form in this dimension!"

Ford couldn't even define the pain he was feeling as he stumbled toward the Gift Shop door.

He couldn't let Mabel die. He was utterly defeated.

Bill had won.

* * *

Dipper focused inward, and struggled to block out outside distractions so that he could focus on the cold, dark power that kept him bound.

How was he supposed to break the seal? Just… _think_ at it? That seemed stupid.

He tried it anyway.

Just focusing on it didn't seem to do anything, so he decided to throw some Latin at it.

 _Sigillum confractus!_ he thought. _Sigillum perdere! How about… Sigillum dissolvere!_

This wasn't working. Maybe he wasn't pronouncing it right. Did pronunciation matter if you were saying it in your head?

 _Sigillum terminantur! Um… Sigillum extinguere! Argh, go away you stupid seal!_

This was stupid. He couldn't do this. How could he do this?

He _had_ to do this. Great Uncle Ford told him to. Great Uncle Ford believed in him.

Okay, so Latin was useless in this situation. Or at least, _his_ Latin was useless. What else could he try?

He thought about the Ocean Beach metaphor he had shared with Mabel. That metaphor seemed to stick with him, because he had thought of it when Bill placed the seal on his forehead. How the seal seemed like a vast wall separating him from the ocean.

He focused, and pictured himself standing on the beach. He focused until he could feel the sun on his back, and the sand beneath his bare feet. He looked up. Before him, the wall stretched to the sky, and in either direction from horizon to horizon.

He could faintly hear the ocean waves susurring behind it.

He walked up to the wall… and punched it.

"Ow," he said, shaking his hand. That had… actually hurt. He looked at his at the back of his hand and saw that one of his knuckles had split and was bleeding slightly.

Wait. How was that possible? He was imagining himself punching a metaphorical wall, and had experienced actual pain.

Maybe this meant he was on the right track.

He thought about some of the old martial arts movies he liked to watch with his dad. In those movies, the martial arts master always told the student to aim, not at the target, but beyond it. Maybe that's what he needed to do. He needed to hit a spot _behind_ the wall, not the wall itself.

He focused on a spot behind the wall. He tried to remember one of the boxing stances Grunkle Stan had taught him. Then, he pulled his fist back and punched with all his strength.

It was like punching a rock, and this time, all of his knuckles were bleeding.

"Ugh!" He said, and then punched the wall, left, right, left, right, until both his hands were sore, but he didn't stop, yelling with each hit he landed. "Stupid! Wall! Why! Won't! You! Just! Break!"

When his hands hurt too much to continue, he scowled, and was about to kick the wall just out of frustration, when he saw that a tiny piece of the wall – a flake no larger or thicker than a dime – had fallen off.

This was working, he realized. This could work. If he kept at it, he could eventually break through this wall.

Or he could die of old age first, which was more likely.

He had to do something different. But what? He paced back and forth in the sand. The warm summer wind blew against his skin, ruffling his shirt.

And he remembered the wind against his face, and the scent of the forest as he ran through the night, feeling lighter than air. He remembered the feeling of being so at peace with his surroundings that he didn't even realize that the forest was making way for him to pass, because it just felt natural. It felt like… himself.

And he, himself, was no longer this thin, short, noodle-armed human form, he realized, looking down at his body.

This wasn't his body. Not anymore.

He closed his eyes and thought of himself the way he was now. Four legs, not two. Long, furry ears. Antlers.

Dipper opened his eyes and looked down. This was who he was. If he wanted to bring that wall down, he needed to follow… his instinct.

He looked at the wall. Swallowed. Took a few steps back. Lowered his head. And charged.

His antlers connected to the wall with a tremendous _crack_ … and the wall shuddered.

Dipper straightened and stepped back. Two parallel impact craters indented the wall, hairline cracks spreading out from the centers. They seemed infinitesimally small in comparison to the size of the wall, but he didn't care. This was progress. Huffing in satisfaction, he backed up again, lowered his head, and charged.

Large chunks of the fell to the ground at the impact, and Dipper could hear the waves of the ocean crashing against the wall on the other side, as if whipped up by a storm.

He charged again. And again. And again.

And then, as his antlers made impact with the wall, the small section he was attacking crumbled before him and he broke through to the other side.

The ocean was there, raging. The wind stung his skin. The waves were huge, and he was so very small before them that he felt that fear of drowning rise up within him. He found himself backing up, back through the hole in the wall…

… and then, far away in the distant physical world, he heard Great Uncle Ford scream.

Startled, he opened his eyes – his physical eyes – and saw Mabel.

Only Mabel.

Mabel, lying crumpled on the grass he had grown. Mabel, bleeding on his wildflowers.

Mabel, dying.

He didn't think. There was nothing to think about. There was only instinct.

He closed his eyes, stood on the beach, and, with a cry of grief and rage, reared on his hind legs, lowered his head and charged right into the roiling waves.

The world went white.

* * *

Ford was almost to the Gift Shop door when there was a flash, and the clearing lit up for just a moment, so bright and blinding that it looked like mid-day.

Wincing against the brightness, he turned back, shielding his eyes, and saw Dipper.

Dipper was standing. His bindings were gone. His eyes were closed. And his birthmark, the Big Dipper, was shining from his forehead like the very stars they resembled.

As Ford watched, Bill's blood seal disintegrated under the brightness of those stars.

As soon as the seal disappeared, Dipper went nova.

Ford didn't know how else to describe it. A flash of white light emitted from the boy's center, and then blasted outward. The pulse of power knocked Ford off his feet.

He looked at Bill, and saw the pulse burn his shadow away, so that the demon looked like nothing more than the rotund little vampire boy whose form he was possessing.

A boy who… no longer looked like a vampire. A boy who dropped out of the air like a rock as whatever dark power that fueled him was wiped away in one unnaturally bright blast.

" _WHAT?_ " Bill shrieked.

The air was suddenly filled with startled murmurs and cries, and as the people around him started to move, Ford realized that the pulse had freed Bill's thralls – including Soos, Wendy, and Stanley.

Stanley, who was already running over to Mabel, crying her name. But Mabel was already stirring, sitting up and blinking dazedly in the bright light.

"Grunkle Stan?" she said as he knelt next to her.

"Sweetie, are you alright?" Stanley's voice was frantic. "Show me where it hurts!"

Mabel shook her head. "It doesn't hurt anywhere," she said, sounding surprised, and she allowed Stanley to help her to her feet.

"Guys," Wendy said, pointing with one hand, while shielding her eyes with the other.

They looked. Ford saw that Dipper's nova was fading, and for one terrifying moment, he thought that when the light went out, the boy would be gone.

But Dipper was still there, and, as Ford stared at him, he realized that perhaps he had underestimated the Mother of the Wood.

Dipper's body was translucent white, faintly glowing. His hooves and antlers shone like silver. His birthmark still glowed over his forehead. And, floating impossibly within Dipper's body, a scattering of twinkling stars, the brightest ones connected by thin strands of pulsing light, as if tracing out a constellation.

Dipper opened his eyes, and they looked like the dark night sky, with twin stars serving as his pupils.

"Holy Moses." Stanley's voice was a hoarse whisper. "Dipper?"

Dipper didn't respond. He turned his fathomless eyes toward Bill.

"Uh-oh," said Bill, and he turned to flee.

But Dipper was fast. He lowered his head, charged, and neatly impaled the little body on his antlers.

But there were no wounds, Ford realized. The antlers seemed to phase through the body without piercing the flesh.

Then, with a toss of his head, Dipper ripped Bill right out of Gideon's body. The body fell to the ground, lifeless. And Bill, whose triangular form should only have been visible in the mindscape, hung limply from Dipper's antlers.

Gideon stirred, blinked open blue eyes, and sat up with a start. He looked at his hands, and reached up to pat his cheeks, before running his tongue over his teeth. "Oh my lord," he said, quietly amazed. "I… I'm human again."

If Dipper knew what his blast of power had done to Gideon, he didn't show it. He calmly raised his hands, stars glowing from within his translucent palms, and with a small gesture, Bill lifted from his antlers and hung in the air before him.

"Stop," Bill said, his eye wide. "You can't—"

" _Bill Cipher_ ," Dipper said, and it was still his voice, but there was a dream-like quality to it, and a vast rushing sound behind it, like a combination of a wind storm and river rapids. " _I bind you._ "

Shining, silver threads appeared out of thin air, and wrapped themselves around Bill.

"No!" Bill said, and Ford had never heard such desperation in his voice. "Listen, Pine Tree, don't do this! I'll do anything—"

" _Bill Cipher_ ," Dipper said again. " _By the earth and sea, by the wind and rivers, by the deserts and lakes, mountains and hills, and the very stars in the sky—_ "

"No! PINE TREE!"

"— _I banish you to the void_."

Bill shrieked as the silver threads binding him blazed with light.

There was a great flash, a sound like clapping thunder… and then nothing.

Bill was gone.

* * *

Mabel couldn't believe what she was seeing as she held tightly to Grunkle Stan's hand. She had thought Dipper looked kind of cool before as a regular deer-taur, but _this_ … this was a completely different level of amazing. He looked like he was made of starlight!

But… he was acting really weird. Not at all like himself. And Mabel thought about Dipper's fear of getting pulled under by a rip tide and drowning.

Forget getting pulled under, she thought. Dipper looked like he had dived into the ocean head-first.

Then he banished Bill like it was nothing. And though that was awesome, it was also a bit terrifying.

She hoped, now that Bill was gone, that Dipper would go back to normal. Or rather, his new normal.

But instead of looking around and seeing all the people he had saved – all of whom were staring at him awestruck – he looked up. Then, slowly, with a strange, wistful expression on his face, he raised one hand as if reaching for the night sky.

"No!" she said, letting go of Grunkle Stan's hand, ducking away as he reached for her, and running toward her brother. "Dipper, no!"

But Dipper didn't act like he heard her at all.

And then, just like the tall, pale man in the blue and silver robes, he began to dissolve into stars.

"Dipper!" Without another thought, she rushed at him and flung her arms around his neck. "Don't you dare!"

Dipper lowered his arm and looked at her with his strange dark eyes, glinting with starlight, and she saw with relief that he had stopped dissolving and seemed solid again. But he looked at her without a hint of recognition, and she felt her heart clench in fear.

"Dipper," she said, "remember. Remember you promised that you wouldn't get stupid. And I promised that I wouldn't let you drown!" She released his neck, then took his face in her hands. "Look at me! It's me, Mabel! Your twin sister!"

He blinked at her, and there was a slight flicker of curiosity in his expression, but nothing more.

"You big doofus!" she yelled at him, and he blinked again. "How can you forget me just like that? You remembered me through dying and coming back to life, but oh no, when you turn all _outer-space-deer_ , you suddenly don't remember me!" She punched him on the shoulder. Hard.

Dipper looked down at where she hit him, and she suddenly felt really stupid. "I'm sorry, Dipper, I didn't mean—"

" _Mabel?_ " he said, and his voice was soft, but loud like rushing waters too.

"Yes!" she said, and felt like her heart almost exploded with relief. "It's me. Come back, Dipper. Don't drown. I said I wouldn't let you drown, and I'm here."

Dipper looked at her then. He frowned, as if concentrating. " _Mabel. My sister._ "

"Yes," Mabel said. She pulled his head forward so that their foreheads were touching. His strange, starlight skin was warm and tingly. "And you're my nerdy brother." Her cheeks were wet, which was weird, because she was grinning. "My nerdy brother who just pulled off the biggest deus ex macaroni _ever_."

Dipper closed his eyes, and then, slowly, a smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. "It's deus ex machina, you big goof," he said, and the rushing sound was gone from his voice.

Mabel grinned wider. "Neeeeeeerd," she said.

Dipper laughed. And when he opened his eyes, they were brown. Normal. His glow was fading, and color was seeping into his translucent white.

"Mabel?" he said, his forehead still resting against hers.

"Yeah, bro-bro?"

"I'm tired."

"I know." She sighed. "Me too. Wanna sit down?"

"…Yeah."

So, as the barest hint of grey light touched the eastern horizon, they sat down together, one human and one deer-taur. They leaned against each other, Mabel resting her head on Dipper's shoulder, Dipper resting his head on the top of hers.

Dipper immediately started snoring like a kitten.

Mabel smiled and closed her eyes. And if she noticed beforehand that most of the townsfolk were still standing around staring, she was honestly too tired to care.

* * *

A/N: First, everyone who hasn't seen it already should go check out this amazing Cervitaur Blues fanart by hntrgurl13 on tumblr:

h. t. t. p. s. : / / utukkigirl . tumblr post / 164338463773 / hntrgurl13-aint-no-cure-for-the-cervitaur (delete the spaces, and the periods before the double slash)

I'm sorry that this took so long to write. But it's definitely the longest chapter of this fic at 17,788 words. I really hope that this was a satisfying climax to the story, because it's all falling action and denouement after this.

Thank you all for sticking with me. And to my new readers, welcome.

A special shout-out to those who left comments: ImpossibleJedi4, cassianaswindell123, Brenne, WolfMistwood, Unicorn Qu33n, KuroNekoo, Kimagurakihara, Wulf, Purest of the Hearts, Talvis, Luthyx, and The Falls for leaving comments on chapter 10. I am so sorry I haven't responded to you personally, but your encouragement kept me writing. Thank you, thank you, thank you. :)

Until next time (which will hopefully be a lot sooner than nearly two months, but this chapter kicked my butt).

Now I'm going outside to watch the eclipse with my kids. :)


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